


Fix You

by Finn4



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:35:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 25
Words: 56,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24936895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Finn4/pseuds/Finn4
Summary: Katniss Everdeen and Finnick Odair are the only survivors of the Quarter Quell, and when they are sent into hiding together they learn more about each other, and how to heal, than they thought possible.Katniss’ POV.Alternate ending to Catching Fire...because well, Katnick.
Relationships: Katniss Everdeen/Finnick Odair
Comments: 142
Kudos: 92





	1. Chapter 1

I don’t care what they told me. These machines are keeping him alive. There’s a strange buzzing and whirring and I can’t tell if it’s in my ears or in the room. It gets so loud that I can hardly stand it but I can’t bring myself to leave the room. To leave him.

There isn’t a part of me that doesn’t hurt and I still can’t understand how after weeks of recovery, I am moving around and he hasn’t opened his eyes. 

And no one will give me answers. No one will do much as look at me. They wheel me out of his room several times a day to use the bathroom (I cry every time because the pain of having to stand is still unbearable) or to get changed or to be put to sleep for a few hours. But they have learned after only a few days of my alertness that I will beg them to take me back to sit in his room and stare at him.

So they do.

The tubes in his mouth. In his nose. The countless wires on his arms and snaking under his gown to his chest. The corners of his mouth still red and black. His eyes closed in hollow dark purple pits. His hair matted to his head from all the different wires and straps that cross cross his brain. Monitoring activity. I force myself to stare at him because it hurts so much and that’s what I deserve. 

I’ve been awake for three days when the only other familiar face I have seen since waking on his hovercraft enters the room. I can’t turn my head to see him but I know his smell before he makes he way around me.

Haymitch.

If I had any strength I would rise from this chair and strangle him, but even thinking about it makes me tired. He sits in front of me, ragged and worn and with her weight of the world on his defeated shoulders.

“I owe you some answers.” He whispers low. It’s almost a cry and his eyes are on his hands, not looking at me.

“Where....is....Peeta.....”

I get the words out that have been plagueing me since I first opened my eyes.

“When you sent that arrow into the sky, everything went ape shit. Our plan was already fragile and it...well, it broke.”

Plan? What plan? There was a plan? In this moment I don’t care at all what his plan was. What anyone’s plan was.

“Answer....me....where.....is....Peeta.....”

I will ask him all day and night if I have to. He shifts uncomfortably and I think deep down I know he is about to give me the answer I have already known to be true.

“We were able to get the two of you out, you were right there by the tree...but by the time we were able to get back down....”

He is choking on his words and I want him to just force them out because he owes me at least that much.

“WHERE....IS...PEETA.....”

He runs his hands over his face and leaves them there, hiding from me like a coward before finally having the spine to look me in the eyes.

“They imploded the arena. We didn’t get anyone else out. There....there weren’t any survivors.”

His words echo and bounce off the walls of the room and I start to sob uncontrollably. Still with very little control of my body or voice I am all but convulsing in this chair and he moves to kneel in front of me. I thrash against him.

“I know, sweetheart. Look I know. And I’m so sorry. I know I promised you. I’m...I can’t stop thinking about it...I’m so sorry. We couldn’t do anything. There was nothing we could do...”

He keeps talking and I am thrashing at him. Kicking and screaming and crying until I have completely exhausted myself and I break down, slumping in my chair and weeping.

Peeta. 

Why did we separate? How did this happen? It was supposed to be him that survived. 

What did I do?

Haymitch is holding me tight and I can’t tell if I should embrace it or reject it but my body is too frail to make that choice. I hate him. But aside from the boy from four that I have been slowly watch die, he is the only thing I know now.

And I want it to be his fault. But it’s mine.

“No survivors...”

I whisper and I’m not even sure where it comes from.

“We got you and Finnick. We...we couldn’t get back down. Everything was on fire.”

Ironic. I burnt them all alive. The Girl On Fire.

I’m weeping again. Sobbing to him. I want to go home. The words come again and again and I can’t stop them. I’m drooling and whining into his shoulder until I literally have no tears left to cry.

“I want to go home....I want to go home....”

I feel him stiffen under me and I realize that there is something he hasn’t found the courage to say to me yet. I quiet myself in the hopes that he will try to be brave for me because he has asked everyone else to be and it seems only fair. He pulls from me and he’s been crying, too. And it doesn’t stop when he stands and moves to the bed where Finnick Odair is clinging to life. 

“Katniss....they bombed every district that showed any signs of rebellion. Including the districts with tributes they felt had been part of this plan from the start....”

They bombed the districts. All of them? Rebellion? What rebellion? What is he telling me? 

“Twelve....”

I manage to choke the only word I can muster. My brain can’t process what I think he is saying.

Bombings. Rebellions. Where is Prim? I try to shout her name but he is already answering me.

“Twelve is....gone. It’s all gone. Everyone is gone....”

He’s crying and he can’t bring himself to look at me. I’m shaking. Numb. This can’t be happening. 

“Look at....me....”

I’m begging him and he won’t turn.

“I SAID LOOK AT ME”

He finally turns and he looks so defeated and lost I can almost pretend I don’t hate him for a moment.

“Prim.”

I whisper it and the sound barely comes.

I know from his face she is gone. She’s gone. Everyone we love. Is gone.

“I’m sorry Katniss.”

He doesn’t move, just stands across the room from me, tears silently running down his red cheeks and I find myself sobbing again.

I realize in that moment that the whirring and beeping and buzzing is the only sound competing with our mutual cries. Streaming from the gurney between us with Finnck’s tortured body strapped to it, clinging to a shred of his existence.

I wheel myself to it and stare at him. That whirring is the machine forcing him to breathe. It’s tall and black and cumbersome and it towers over his bed. I stare at the numbers. His steady but low oxygen levels. Blood pressure. Vital signs that they are keeping stable but not thriving. 

I think about pulling the plug on it. He’s peaceful. I could let him gradually slip away into a death that I know, like me, he has craved at one time or another. He would want me to. Just like I would want him to.

I remember his face in the jungle. The jabberjays. Annie. When he wakes up, if he wakes up, I’ll have to be the one to tell him she is gone. Because thanks to me, I’m all he has left now, too. 

Don’t wake up, Finnick. You don’t deserve this. Please just die so I don’t have to do it for you. 

“Please.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Day eight.**

I’ve been awake for over a week now. And by awake I mean living in some kind of tortured nightmare that I can’t escape from. 

And Finnick has not changed. I sit and watch him. They’ve moved us into an underground bunker now while they decide what to do with us. And I would hate every second of it if I wasn’t just hoping something would come along and kill me. Kill us both.

They are waiting to see if he pulls through. If he does, we will be sent to a remote corner of District 7 that was uninhabited and managed to escape unscathed. We will be hidden there until things “settle down.” 

But I know that nothing will ever settle down again.

I also know that if Finnick doesn’t survive, they will keep me here instead of sending me off on my own. None of these options appeal to me. The only escape I have is for something to stop my breathing and end this suffering. I wish someone could pull the plug on me.

I’m walking now. But not for long. So I spend most of my time curled in fetal position on a plain cot that they had set against the wall in Finnick’s hospital room. I have every beep and hiss and rumble from every machine memorized. Like the ticking of a clock. Nurses and doctors come and go, try new things, bathe him as best they can. But he looks like a corpse. His skin doesn’t glow. His hair is growing wild. And his unearthly sea foam eyes haven’t been open since the arena.

The arena. 

_Remember who the real enemy is._

I can still hear him saying my name and see him running - no, barreling - towards me. Moving, breathing. Was he telling me to do it? Begging me not to?

The doctors said that it was his trident. The shock of the electrocution blew my body away from it. But the trident in his hand conducted that electricity right into him. That’s why I’m laying on this cot breathing on my own and he has a bag collecting what little urine out put his frail body can even produce. 

I’ve practiced in my head the way I’ll have to tell him. I curse myself because I keep wanting him to die and I’ve started to be afraid that it’s really just to save myself from having to break his spirit the way they broke his body.

**Day twelve.**

I have found a small bit of energy now. I use it do three things. 

Care for Finnick.  
Take showers.  
Actively ignore Haymitch Abernathy.

I have decided that the only thing keeping me sane has been watching Finnick’s levels slowly rise and fall. So I have created a game. I care for him. Reading to him and singing to him, washing his extremities, brushing his hair, even cautiously shaving his face. When his blood levels rise even by a number or two, I feel like it’s been a successful day.

I no longer allow myself to pray for his death because I can see the color starting to return to his cheeks and it makes me realize just how badly I need him to wake up.

“Wake up, Finnick.”

I whisper it to him several times throughout the day and night. I sleep in his room because I insist on being there when he wakes. No one was there for me and it felt like a nightmare or a trap. I will be there for him. 

Haymitch brings me things to read. Old news articles about past Victors. Today he has stayed with us. I ignore him as best I can. I read them aloud to Finnick. I touch his hand and play at the too small wrist where Haymitch’s bracelet once sat. 

“Why did they do it? Agree to all of this?”

I’m thinking of the bracelet. The arrangements and agreements that I cannot make any sense out of. I watched Mags walk into toxic fog. Why? 

“They believed in you, Mockingjay. They believed that this cause was worth whatever they had to do. Look. I knew these people. They would do it again, even knowing what happened. They would all do it again.”

“Annie...the girl Finnick loves...she’s gone?

I whisper suddenly worried that he may be able to hear me.

Haymitch nods.

“They obliterated District Four. All but sunk it. She was there.”

I look at him. Remembering the sheer panic and fear on Finnick’s face when he thought she was hurting.”

God, Finnick, I’m back to wishing you would just pass peacefully. Leave me alone. That’s what I deserve. You’ll cling to life just to babysit me.

“He should have stayed away from me. He had the perfect life...”

“Whoa whoa whoa...first of all don’t start down this path, I’ve seen it before and it ain’t pretty....”

Haymitch is sobering up and I can tell it’s not agreeing with him.

“Second, Finnick’s life wasn’t what it seemed. I know what you think of him, what most people think of him. Hell, what I thought of him. But it was far from perfect.”

I turn and look at Haymitch for the first time in twelve days and tell him with my eyes to keep talking.

“Snow doesn’t let Victors win, sweetheart. Al these tributes knew that. But maybe no one more than Finnick. Snow...he sold him off to people. Forced him to...work to keep his family alive. I don’t have to spell it out for you.”

I turn from Haymitch to the sleeping boy next to me whose hand I have been subconsciously grabbing.

This is Finnick Odair. He isn’t a whore. He’s a slave. And entering that arena was his only chance out.

I was his only chance out. 

Maybe I still can be.

“C’mon Finnick. Wake up. Open your eyes and wake up.”

Haymitch can hardly stand the sad display and is getting ready to leave the room to either cry or try desperately to drink when I gasp and startle loudly. 

Finnick is squeezing....just barely, blink and you miss it...but squeezing my hand.

“That’s right, Finnick. I’m here. Wake up”


	3. Chapter 3

“That’s right, Finnick. Open your eyes.”

“Katniss...” Haymitch’s voice comes out like a shocked whisper and I look at him. He’s pointing at Finnick’s feet. There is movement under the sheet. His toes maybe. Only barely. But I have studied his still body on this bed for week’s and I know this is new.

“That’s right, Finnick. Fight. You can wake up. You can open your eyes.”

“I’ll get a nurse...” Haymitch is already out of the room as he tells me his intention and I sit carefully on the bed, squeezing his hand back as he slowly takes mine harder. I can see his eyes moving behind their lids.

“It’s Katniss Everdeen, Finnick. Open your eyes and look at me. God, please open your eyes, Finnick.”

I remember seeing his eyes for the first time. People say they are the color of the Gulf waters he grew up in. That there’s nothing else like it. I’ve never seen those waters. Never saw salt water til the arena. But I remember thinking his eyes were as unnatural as they were beautiful when he introduced himself to me. He was half naked and still all I saw were his eyes. 

And now I want to see them so badly I’m debating just lifting the lids myself.

I see the movement increasing and he still has my hand, probably about as tightly as he would be able to. 

Slowly his long bronze lashes which have all but been matted together start to flutter and I can see the pained expression on his brows as he tries to lift them open.

A crack at first. A neon sliver of ocean blue that belies the greyish tone the rest of his body has. I’m smiling despite myself so that if he can even see if won’t be something as horrifying as what his new reality holds.

“That’s it. Wake up. I need you to wake up.”

I’m begging this sleeping, wounded boy who gave his life for me to do something for me again. What have I become? 

Haymitch has returned but he hovers in the hallway and instead a team of three medical personnel descend on Finnick. Checking machines, measuring vitals, one of them does what I wanted to all along and lifts his eyelid to shine a tiny speck of light into it. I watch as the black center of his eye shrinks to it. He seems to wince.

“Don’t hurt him.” I bark defensively. In the midst of their chatter (levels are up, reflexes responsive, eyes are tracking) one of the nurses that has been kindest to me through all of this asks me to trade her places. I don’t want to but she smiles softly and takes my hand, moving me away from him.

“Finnick.”

I say his name out loud as I move towards the door and suddenly I’m in someone’s arms. 

Haymitch. He’s grabbed me from behind, arms slung around my shoulders in a bear hug and I don’t wince. I accept it.

“He’s the strongest kid I’ve ever met, sweetheart. He’s gonna pull through this.”

I nod in agreement and I can feel my eyes start to swell. I hastily push back any tears that threaten to fall.

They have removed the sheet covering him and I can see his feet moving. Both of them. Almost like they are searching for floor.

“Finnick if you can hear me, we want you to know you’re safe. There was an accident in the arena. But you’re safe now, out of the Capitol. Your friends are here.”

The nurse is pleasantly trying to coax him from sleep and I let her words dance over me, too. 

“They were afraid he would panic and lash out like you did when you woke up. You set the bar pretty high. Proud of you.”

Haymitch is trying to cheer me up and I guess I don’t mind it, but I also wonder how else he expected me to react. One minute I’m dead on the fiery floor of the arena and the next I’m strapped to a metal table sure I’m being turned into some muttation. They are right to fear Finnick, other than maybe he knew all along someone was coming for us.

“Katniss...” Haymitch raises a pointed hand and I see Finnick’s eyes. Frantically looking around the room. No doubt realizing his intubated, they are searching wildly and I can see his hands are moving against the restraints on his bed.

For a moment Haymitch is holding me as I fight the urge to run to the bed but then he releases his arms and whispers to me...

“Go....”

I push a nurse from his other side and whisper to him.

“Finnick...it’s Katniss...can you hear me?”

Slowly, like he’s stuck in sugary mud, his head turned to face me. His eyes find mine and they calm, if only slightly. They are wide like there are a million things he wants to know and can’t ask.

“You’re safe now, Finnick. We’re in District Thirteen.” I see his eyes rise towards the ceiling and land on something. Haymitch. He’s moved behind me.

“You did it, kid. You got her out.” 

I look down and notice his hand moving. He’s pressing his forefinger and thumb together like he’s holding a pen and moving it slightly back and forth. 

He wants to write something. 

“Get him something to write with.”

The nurse looks at me incredulously, as if to tell me he can barely move much less write. But his hand is still moving and his eyes blink at me like he’s glad I understand him. 

A nurse appears next to me and hands a board and a marker to Haymitch, who passes it to me. I turn it and open the marker, carefully helping Finnick close his fingers around it. He’s shaky but he can grasp. I hold the board and he is scrawling letters as I try to piece them together:

S...

A...

F...

E...

Yes, Finnick. I think so.

“We’re safe, Finnick. They pulled us from the arena after the explosion and brought us to District 13.” He blinks a few times and I feel like I hear him groan but I’m not sure. He’s frustrated and weak. And he is writing again.

A...

N...

N...

He’s asking about Annie Cresta. The mad girl from Four. The girl he loves. The girl that is gone. 

“We couldn’t get her, Finnick. When the arena fell The Capitol launched immediate attacks into the Districts and we had to get out.”

Haymitch’s voice is low and lean from behind me I can hear he’s sad, too. Sometimes I let myself forget that these are the closest thing Haymitch has to friends and family, too. 

But he’s dodging the question.

Finnick’s eyes are intent on Haymitch waiting for him to finish: _but we are going back, but she is safe, but we know where she is._

Nothing. His eyes are widening and he looks to me and my heart breaks. It’s a physical pain I can almost feel. The pain of knowing I lost Peeta, I can feel it rising in me again and, like a child, I cry. A wailing sound escapes me that I immediately regret.

I didn’t have to tell you, Finnick. Now you just know.

I hear the marker fall from his hands to the floor and his fingers stretch open wide, pulling hard at the restraints and he is definitely groaning now. His body, frail and unmoving, is suddenly tensing on the bed as if he is mustering every ounce of strength he can find to break himself free. 

But it’s not enough. He can’t even cry. Everything I have stolen from him and I sit here sobbing and he can’t...even...cry for the girl he’s lost. He throws his head back and there’s a loud and long siren from a machine. He’s disconnected something and with no warning at all, the kind nurse is plowing a syringe into his IV. He thrashes, as much as he can, before his body is still and comotose. Only the whirring machines surrounding him making sound or movement.

I run from the room. Into the hall way. Fighting to catch my breath. Like I can’t see. I hear Haymitch calling to me but I keep moving and his voice is just an echo. Finally he has me, his large hands on my arms. He spins me and pulls me to his chest where I continue to sob. He’s patting my hair the way my father used to. Trying to calm me but I can’t be calmed.

“We promised him we’d get to her. I promised him. That was part of his deal. And I couldn’t keep it. I let him down. I let all of you down.”

Haymitch is burying his face in the top of my head now and he is crying. I feel it damp in my scalp. 

For all the things he is I know in this moment what I have suspected all along. He has been trying. He doesn’t always do it right. But he has been trying to save us. To save all of us. His tiny family of broken Victors. 

And now...we are down to three.


	4. Chapter 4

** Day Fifteen. **

They’ve kept him sedated off and on for three days. He wakes, he panics, they sedate him, repeat.

Haymitch is getting nervous because they wanted us out of here by now. He’s told me that the “people in charge” would like to meet with me to discuss my comfort level of going out on my own.

I’m most comfortable on my own. 

But I’m not going to even entertain the idea of leaving Finnick behind here. When I don’t even know where ‘here’ is.

“They can come talk to me here. I’m not leaving him.”

I know that Haymitch can tell I mean it so he doesn’t waste his breath fighting me on it. He just shakes his head and slinks out. Let him fight this battle for me. I don’t care. 

I move from the cot to his bed and back again throughout the day. I’ve become so adept at doing some of the light work that sometimes I think I could spring him from here and care for him myself. But I have no concept of where we are. Or how he really is. What getting out would entail. But I can tell from the security around this room it wouldn’t be easy.

I’ve been instructed to push a small red button to call for help at the first sign of his wakefulness, and as I see his brow furrows and eyes flutter I reach for it.

But I stop. 

I sit by him and take his hand.

“It’s ok Finnick. It’s Katniss. It’s just you and me.”

_It’s just you and me_. Finnick, you have no idea how much it’s just you and me.

He turns his head to me and I know he’s heard as he slowly pushes his eyes awake. They are still glowing blue but the whites are pink and the flesh surrounding them is swollen. He cries in his sleep. All the time. I make myself watch because it tortures me. I take his hand and he squeezes it. 

“You’re ok. I mean. You’re going to be ok.”

None of us are ok. But in this second there is no threat of death or even of some nurse deciding he is safer asleep. 

They’ve removed the tube from his throat but he still hasn’t spoken. I don’t know if it’s because he can’t or won’t. But he hasn’t. And I want him to. It’s selfish. I need him to tell me doesn’t hate me. 

He’s staring at me and I’m fighting to read his face but he’s expressionless.

“Does anything hurt?” 

He holds his gaze for a moment and then gingerly shakes his head no. 

Good. He’s actually communicating with me.

“Can you try to talk?”

He doesn’t move. No nod, a blink or two. And I think maybe he’s afraid. 

“It’s ok. You don’t have to. How about....you squeeze my hand. Once is yes. Twice is no.”

Still no nod, but I tighten my grip on his hand by his side. I inhale. I know that there are a million things to say. But he should be asking the questions here not me. He deserves answers. But I’m a coward. So I start with Haymitch.

“Haymitch is...he’s....sorry. He feels like he let us down. He couldn’t....help the way he wanted. Do you understand that?”

He gently squeezes my hand. Once. His lip is quivering and I want to stop.

“Do you want me to keep talking?”

The words have barely passed my lips and he is squeezing my hand hard. Once.

“Ok...I know that you were trying to save me. I know that you lost Mags and it’s my fault...”

I mean to keep talking but he interrupts my train of thought, squeezing my hand hard. Twice. 

I have to look away because he’s crying now. And I haven’t seen him cry awake. When he’s aware of the pain he’s in.

“I’m sorry. About Mags about all of it. About you doing this for me.”

He’s squeezing my hand. Two times. But over and over again. In a pattern that feels like his heartbeat. He is pulling at my hand, too, so I force myself to look back at him. He’s slightly moving his head from side to side and mouthing the word ‘no.’

He closes his eyes for just a moment. I see his tongue move in his mouth and he forces what I can tell is a still painful swallow a few times as he licks his lips. I can’t image the discomfort in his mouth because I can see it in the dry skin, the still red corners. He opens his eyes and they find me.

“Peeta.” 

His voice makes no sound but is just a puff of warm air with syllables stuck into it. I hear the P...the T. He mouths it again.

I can’t answer because my throat swells so much it feels like I might actually choke. Instead I squeeze his hand. Shaking. Twice.

I hang my head and I see my tears fall onto the gown that covers his shoulder. We are silent for a moment until I drag my focus back to his eyes. He’s watching me. And I know he feels it, too.

“I’m sorry.” He mouths before pushing his eyes closed and forcing tears from their corners.

“You blame yourself for that....” I whisper because it’s painted all over his face.

He squeezes my hand. Once.

“You’re plan was to get us both out alive.”

Once.

“You thought you could get us all out alive.”

Once.

My voice is picking up steam as I am putting the pieces of this puzzle together and I’m getting so angry my vision is blurry.

“Haymitch promised to protect us.”

Once.

“You knew the whole time but they told you not to tell me.”

Once.

I am almost glad to hear the door slide open behind me because this line of questioning quickly turned into an interrogation and he doesn’t deserve that.

I turn to see Haymitch flanked by two people. One unusually stunning grey haired woman and one shorter man I know I’ve seen before.

“Katniss, this is Plutarch Heavensbee, head game maker. And Alma Coin, President of District Thirteen. They had some things to discuss with you, and I promised them if they agreed to do it do it down here you’d be on your best behavior.”

Haymitch is eyeing me in a way that seems like a warning. So I mind it.

“Katniss. Finnick. We are so sorry for the pain that you have gone through. I cannot imagine how you must be feeling, but please know that we did everything in our power to save the tributes and we are doing everything in our power to keep you safe now.”

The President’s voice is soothing but mechanical. I will wait and get the breakdown on her from Haymitch later. I just cautiously answer her with a:

“Thank you.”

Plutarch, who I remember now from the night in the Capitol, launches into a speech about how the plan was supposed to work. What went wrong (that would be me) and the dire situation that the districts, or what is left of them, find themselves in now. It’s swirling around me and I’m overwhelmed. I look at Finnick occasionally and see him trying to track information, too.

“There is a small section of District Seven, the northwest most corner of Panem. Remote. It was relatively untouched and we have been monitoring it for fly overs but we feel that because it was uninhabited it will go unscathed. There is an old abandoned outpost there. We feel like we can keep you safe. Out of harm’s way, until the Capitol falls - which we have every hope that it will - at which point we will return for you and find a peaceful way for you to live out the rest of your lives. You’ve both earned that.”

“Why not just keep us here. You seem very safe and comfortable.”

I eye her perfect shining silver hair and impeccable suit. My words are an attack and I don’t apologize for it even when Haymitch groans. They share a look and I’m uncomfortable.

I notice that Finnick is squeezing my hand. Twice. No....no to what Finnick? I look down at him and he looks back to Coin.

“When we rescued you from the arena, we had lost track of Johanna Mason. She was supposed to remove Mr. Odair’s tracker from his arm. She hadn’t. Haymitch insisted we rescue him anyway. But because he escaped on one of our hovercrafts and was tracked before we realized our mistake, we have reason to believe that President Snow is planning an attack, mostly with the intention of retrieving the two remaining tributes. I’ll let you try to imagine just what he has in store for you before you question me again.”

I am seething. I don’t know what I find the most off putting. That her helpfulness turned to hatefulness the second someone dared to challenge her? The fact that she just admitted she would have left Finnick to die with the rest of them if Haymitch hadn’t been there? Or the fact the she is threatening us and it isn’t even veiled. Am I supposed to feel bad that we are putting them in danger when she is the one that brought us here?

“We need to know that Finnick is healthy enough to survive out there. Cause I’m not sending you off on your own.”

Haymitch intercepts and I think it’s because he can tell I’m about to lose whatever composure I have left. And I feel Finnick squeeze my hand no. I no longer think he can’t speak. I think he’s telling me thins he doesn’t want everyone else to know.

“You’ve got two days. We have intelligence that suggests they plan to attack in seventy two hours. If we can move the two of you, send them on a wild good chase for Finnick’s tracker...we might be able to avoid an unnecessary attack. And get you out before it does happen if we can’t. Two days.”

Alma Coin seems unhinged at this point and she turns and leaves before I have the chance to say another word. Plutarch, who is smiling and I can’t figure out why, suggests she is usually much more cordial. But she has the weight of the free world on her shoulders.

Please.

Haymitch moves to the end of Finnick’s bed and puts a hand on his leg. I think it’s the first time he has touched him.

“I’m sorry Finnick. I tried. I need you to know I tried.”

Finnick squeezes my hand once and I relay the message.

“He knows.”

I think any anger Finnick might have felt he knows now, that in spite of everything, he’s only alive because of Haymitch Abernathy. Whether he wants to be or not. Haymitch turns to me.

“Two days, mockingjay. Can we do this?”

Finnick gives my hand an emphatic squeeze. Just one.

I look down at him.

“Yes.” 

I see the fire in his eyes and the sheer determination plastered on his face. I know that in spite of anything else the one thing we can agree on is: we need to get out of here. Fast. I look over his body. Still connected to machines, still wired, still unable to speak or stand. I have no idea of his internal injuries.

“We need to give him a chance,” I turn back to Haymitch knowing he has more pull down here than I do, “wean him off these sedatives to let him get on his feet. I can help him, but they have to help, too.”

I wait for him to squeeze my hand and he doesn’t, but I notice he’s just holding it tightly...like a permanent squeeze of approval.

Haymitch nods. 

“I’ll see what I can do.”

He taps the bed and leaves slowly, the door slides back behind him. 

I turn to Finnick. He’s still expressionless and lost. But there is a new strength in his eyes if not his body. I look down at the restraints on his wrists. He still has my hand.

“One last question. Honest answer.”

He nods slowly and I feel myself shudder with the threat of a cry as I move to ask it. It comes out of me as a whisper.

“Do you wish you were dead?” I ask him quietly, and my voice breaks. I wonder if he knows it’s because I wish I were. He doesn’t respond, I’m watching his hand waiting for it to move, and finally I look up to him. His eyes are glassy. He gauges my reaction and then gently, slowly, he squeezes my hand.

Twice. 


	5. Chapter 5

** Day Seventeen.  **

It’s been two days. We have spent every waking moment getting Finnick independent and mobile and weaned safely from morphling. Everything is moving at such a rapid pace I keep stopping him because I can see how far and how hard he is pushing. He’s as desperate to get out of these catacombs as I am and he knows it hangs in the balance of convincing Coin, and Haymitch, that he can help me and not hinder me.

This morning we are moving early, waking up knowing that at some point today...Coin will lower herself (literally) to join us down here in the bowels in her perfect hair and makeup and make a judgement call about Finnick. And as I watch him wince trying to swallow water, which is all he can tolerate for breakfast, I’m dreading that moment. 

What I didn’t realize until I had to get a crash course on what exactly Finnick was healing from was that a good percentage of his body had basically been fried from the inside out. The electricity entered through his hand, which is still wrapped in a bandage that needs to be changed frequently, and it exited his body...through his mouth. His pain in talking and swallowing and breathing wasn’t just from intubation. It was from suffering what are essentially third degree burns in his throat and esophagus. 

Knowing this makes it hard to watch him manage it.

“Go slow, Finnick.”

He arches an eyebrow at me as he continues to sip water from a glass and pretend it doesn’t hurt when I know it does.

“Look, this doesn’t work if you’re lying to me. I’ve had enough of that. I need to know what hurts and when if I’m going be able to help you at all.”

He puts the water down and grimaces. 

“On a scale of 1-10...one being laying on the beach and ten being poison fog...how bad does your throat hurt?”

He swallows. And opens his mouth so I can hear him inhale.

“Fifteen.” He whispers. Deadpan.

“Ok then.” 

I grab a kit from beside his bed and open it. Medicines and ointments I’ve been shown how to use. I grab the balm I’ve been applying to his mouth and smooth it over his lips with my finger. I make him open his mouth and drop three clear droplets into his throat that numb it enough to keep some of that pain at bay.

“Eight...”

He whispers. But there’s a hint of his normal self in it that comforts me.

I help him to his feet on shaky legs, but I notice that he is stronger every time he stands. And his color is starting to look like the boy who lives in the sun and not the boy who has never seen it. I help him pull up his grey jumpsuit under his hospital gown, careful to look away when I need to for his modesty’s sake. Knowing now what I know now about Finnick I feel a fierce need to protect that for him.

I have to zip and button because his right hand is still in bad shape. Obviously his dominant hand since that’s where the trident was.

“I wish you would have dropped that damn thing.”

I whisper not even sure if he can hear me.

“I wish you would have dropped yours, too.”

I snap to attention and stare at him, leaving his zipper unfinished. Not only is that the most he has spoken. Eight whole words. A whole sentence even. But he mustered then strength to do it just to remind me this is on me, and not him. I stare for a second and then finish zipping him up to his neck. He lifts his head to not get caught. I look at his neck and realize that he needs to shave again and while that has become my job we certainly don’t have the luxury of time now. 

“Ok. Walking on your own today.”

This has been our plan. Up ‘til now he has used the support of a nurse, or held the wall, or more often than not...me. But today he is on his own. If he falls I don’t help him. If he tires, he pushes on. 

I don’t want to. But we have to.

His fingers are gripping the edge of thebed until he presses down and then lifts them. Standing on his own and taking a few cautious steps. He doesn’t look at me. Even as he approaches me at the door his eyes are on his feet. He’s had nerve damage to match the fact that much of his muscle tissue was scarred and shocked. And while the doctors assure him that he will recover completely...even they questioned his ability to move independently in a matter of days.

But they don’t know Finnick...and they don’t know me.

He rounds the corner into the hallway, still resisting the urge to lean on a wall or sit against one to rest. 

“I’m right here.” I whisper from behind him, although I know if I tried to help it would just make him mad.

“This looks promising.” It’s President Coin’s voice coming from the hall behind us and we turn to face her. She is with some of Finnick’s medical team (the only kind nurse, which is a blessing) as well as Haymitch and Plutarch, and some guards.

They are all mumbling but all I can think is: no. He’s not ready. It’s morning. We have all day. He just got out of bed.

“We didn’t expect to see you....”

I start but Coin effectively cuts me off. I know she doesn’t care about anything I have to say.

“We don’t have time. We’d like you both loaded up and ready to go by lunch. Now we understand from your doctors, Finnick, that you have made some progress but there hasn’t been enough time. I’m hopeful that your body has healed enough to ensure that you are an asset and not a liability. Haymitch wants to protect you by helping you flee, but I’m not sure that you wouldn’t be safer here.”

Coin knows how fragile we both are. There is nothing we can do for her here, and I get the distinct impression if you can’t benefit her...she has no need for you.

Finnick steels his jaw and I can tell he wants to speak.

“I can survive out there.”

He whispers and his voice hurts we can all hear it. Although he assured me it sounds worse than it feels, I don’t know that I believe him.

“And help Katniss survive?” Coin asks defensively and I wonder if she really even cares.

“She won’t need my help, but if it comes to it, yes.” 

Stop making him talk. With each word it’s more pained. More of a struggle.

“Alright. Run.”

She asks him pointedly. He’s taken about five independent steps and she wants him to run?!

“You know he can’t run...” I question her and she shoots me a look that reminds me of my place. Haymitch protests, too.

“Look you’ve seen him at his peak form, you know he’s capable.”

“Run.” She repeats. I stare at Finnick, who meets my gaze for a moment before turning from us. He is nothing if not determined.

“Finnick, no...” I whisper but he is already moving. Slowly at first.But he’s picking up speed already. And before I can even take a step to follow him, he is willing his legs into a jog. I can’t believe it. I feel my mouth curl just in time to watch his feet catch each other and send him sprawling into a wall, landing on both of his palms, one of which can barely hold a fork much less the weight of his body.

“Finnick!”

I’m already running after him. I don’t care what our arrangement was.

He rears back on his heels, clasping his injured hand and forcing himself onto his feet. He’s getting back up. Damn him. No. Damn her.

“Finnick! No! Stop!”

He’s not doing this again. I reach him just as his stands, taking his face in my hands to examine his pained expression and he is in a full on sweat. I look at his hand and it’s bleeding through. I blow on it instinctively the way my mother would if I skinned a knee or stubbed a toe. 

I wrap my arm around his waist and take as much of his weight as I can, staring down Coin as we make our way back. His doctors are pasty white. Haymitch looks like he may get sick at the display. But Coin is smiling.

“Perfect. Thank you Finnick,” she turns to Haymitch and an armed man at his side, “They’re ready. Let’s get them to Seven as soon as possible. Have a team ready to get the outpost prepared. I trust we have a large medical stockpile?” A doctor nods.

It dawns on me.

She wasn’t testing Finnick. She was testing me. 

“What was that about? Why torture him?” She isn’t looking at me and it infuriates me. I want to lunge at her and Haymitch steps in.

“She wanted to make sure you weren’t gonna get out there, kill him, then run. I tried to tell her I knew you better. She wanted to see it. Relax. We don’t have time Katniss....”

“Don’t have time?! We have time to make Finnick run when his doctors don’t want him to walk?! We have time for your sick games?! I’m done with games!”

I’m shouting against my will even as Finnick takes my hand and squeezes it hard twice. She turns and smiles that silvery grin that I have come to hate in a short amount of time.

“I needed to see with my own eyes how much you care for him. He put his whole family on the line for you. And lost. I needed to know that you’d do the same. So yes, it was very necessary. You passed.”

Haymitch pushes me into Finnick’s room. Keeping me from her.

“Look. I’m not a fan either that’s why we need you out of here before she changes her mind. She wants to use you as bait and I told her she’d have to do it over my dead body. I’m not a hundred percent sure she wouldn’t be ok with that.” 

He is whispering through his teeth as a Finnick and I hang on his words.

I’m not sure she gives a shit about any of us. So I sure hope Haymitch has an end game in mind. 

In a matter of hours we will be free of this prison. And transferred to a new one.


	6. Chapter 6

** Day Seventeen.  **

I have at terrible, awful, nagging feeling as we board the hovercraft to leave District 13. Coin comes to see us off, we are each given a pack, suited up, shuffled into a vehicle and...against my better judgement, having trackers installed. Hatmitch assures me it’s so that he knows where we are. I hope he is right.

Finnick is moving with more ease but it’s still labored. And by the time he is trying to strap in (Haymitch helps him) I can tell he wants to close his eyes and sleep. 

Me? I feel like we are being sent back into the arena. And in a way we are. Shot off into a world we know nothing about. I close my eyes and try to breathe but I feel the panic setting in. I’m holding my breath and trying not to lose it when I feel a hand on my lap. I open my eyes immediately. It’s Finnick. I put my hand on his and he flips his to hold mine. It’s too loud for him to try to be heard but his face is telling me it’s ok and his hand is squeezing mine. I try to form a smile. 

“Are you ok??” I yell over the noise of the clunky motors.

He squeezes my hand once and we both close our eyes.

When the hovercraft nears District Seven I can hear the rudders slowing and my ears pop as we silently descend. 

“We can only be in this airspace for ten minutes sweetheart so it’s gonna be quick. I’m gonna say this now in case I don’t get to later. You’re gonna be fine. It shouldn’t be for long. Just...try to survive.”

Before I can do it first he has pulled me into a hug. I’m still restrained in my seat but I hug back hard.

He moves to Finnick and leans over him separately, the same way he just had with me. It seems longer and I wish I could hear his words. He leans in and hugs Finnick as well. He’s crying as he turns from him to prepare to land. Finnick turns back to me and reads the look of wonder in my face.

He holds up an “ok” sign with his fingers like it’s a question so I match it. My heart is racing. It’s like the Games all over again. I close my eyes and see Cinna. My heart pounds. My breath is hitching. I can’t breathe. Finnick is up out of his seat and crouching next to me when I open my eyes because he’s tapping me on the shoulder...clasping his hand there. My eyes fly open in a panic.

I’m there. It’s the Games. I’m lost. We are going to die.

He holds up two fingers, pointing at his eyes and then my own. He wants me to look at him. He puts his hands on my chest and suddenly he’s my mentor. He moves his hand right over my pounding heart and I’m shaking my head “no” and he’s gently moving his “yes.” It’s like the warmth from his hand is physically slowly my heart and I stare at him and start to match the way he’s breathing. He nods when he can tell it’s working. 

_ God, Finnick, what did you just do? _

I’m still spinning out from the fact that he brought me off the precipice of a panic attack that quickly when Haymitch shouts.

“Ok! Let’s go!”

I look behind Finnick at the open bay. I unbuckle. He’s strapping his trident and backpack together on his back. I reach for my quiver. We stand poised together at the ramp. 

The tributes from District 13 about to enter the arena. 

I guess the good part is a large part of both of us is used to this uncertainty. We have had no time to mourn our friends and families. We have had no real preparations for what we might encounter. 

“Go!” Haymitch shouts and I turn to him as Finnick does exactly what he says and hops gingerly off the ramp. I turn to Haymitch.

“Stay alive.” He says.

“You, too.”

Suddenly I’m feeling like if Finnick Odair is my ally and Alma Coin is his...I’m liking my chances. I want to ask him why he can’t come with us. We are his family. But before I can he is walking up the ramp to leave. I watch him. Was he crying? I hop down beside Finnick. Several soldiers that had deployed before we got there rush past us. A few whisper words of good luck. They board the craft and the ramp pulls closed as it is already evaporating into the grey sky.

We stand and watch it.

And then...silence.

This is where I realize these games, as I will continue to refer to them, are different.

There is no rush of fear. No immediate threat of aggression. Just me and the tribute from Four standing and taking in the small clearing in the woods.

The woods.

I allow myself to inhale and it’s a beautifully sweet smell of pine and sap and things I know. But it’s salty, too. We are covered from the sky by some of the tallest trees I have seen. Their thick bark stretches high into the sky before their evergreen branches begin, and then they go so high you couldn’t guess where the top was. But I notice my feet are in sand. Finnick notices, too, as he’s moving in a circle to access everything around us.

He points, and off in the distance there is a small cabin. Smoke coming from the chimney. The outpost. We inch towards it carefully and without a word. I notice he has drawn his trident and I have my hands on an arrow. We are stalking these woods like we would in the games. No trust yet.

We reach the cabin and Finnick holds up a finger, asking me to wait, then circling it...asking me to cover him. There’s a small porch. He crosses it and enters the cabin with his weapon drawn. I watch for a minute. Holding my breath. It feels like he is in there for a day. But when he re-emerges I soften immediately. His weapon is lowered. He runs his hand through his hair and stops in the doorway. He’s staring straight out before he turns to look at me.

“It’s just you and me, District 12.”

Do you feel it, too, Finnick? This feeling that we are back in the games. Only now someone has left us a shelter full of food, water, and a burning fire. That would have been helpful in the Quarter Quell.

Finnick takes a few steps forward and through the smaller foliage that masks the front of the outpost. I follow along behind him. In just a few steps the trees clear again. I hear the lapping of the water and realize that salty smell wasn’t Finnick for a change. We are on the ocean. I walk beside him as he assesses it, bending to move his fingers in the sand. Touching the water like he’s saying hi. 

He starts to take the bandage off of his right hand and I’m suddenly remembering the toll this must be taking on his body. I’m exhausted and I’ve got nothing on Finnick.

He exposes his hand which still looks pretty rough, before sinking it into the salt and water and sand. I wince. He doesn’t. He holds it there and closes his eyes. I’ve never seen an ocean until this very minute and I realize that the water that is foreign to me courses right through this boy’s veins.

“We should get you inside. I need to figure out where your medicine is.”

I’m assuming the cabin is full of bags and boxes I saw them throw on the hovercraft. He stands and turns to me. We walk back, still silent, but side by side. 

We enter the outpost and I hold my breath to see this place that is my new home. And for how long is anyone’s guess. A week? A month? A year? Do I die here?

It’s all dark wood and as moody as I am, but clean and quiet and quaint. A small kitchen with a few cabinets and a small table and two chairs. Wood that is the same color as the walls. The fire burns in a large cobbled stone hearth that spans the height of the place. A couch and a chair face it and large pelt...maybe a bear...covers the wood floor in front of it. There is a stack of blankets on one side and wood on the other. A small ladder leads to a loft. I can see up into it just enough to eye a small bed on the floor covered in a heap of blankets and pillows. There’s a small bathroom underneath it, next to an open storage room which is where our supplies all landed. 

I look back and notice Finnick looking out the window over the sink. Lost in thoughts I’m not sure I want to know. I take my bag from my back and sit it down behind the couch.

“Everything ok?” I ask him, knowing that actually nothing is.

“Mags used to tell me that all she ever wanted in life was a window over her sink. I used to think that was a crazy thing to want.”

His voice is still a whisper but for the first time the pain I hear in it isn’t coming from his physical wounds, it’s coming from his loss. He leans on the sink and looks down shaking his head. 

“It’s not a crazy thing to want, Mags. I’m sorry I said that.” He’s whispering to himself and I actually feel guilty for hearing it. But it makes my heart ache for him and all he has lost. I don’t allow myself to think about it because I can’t start pulling up my list. Not yet.

I gently put my hand on his back between his tense shoulders. 

“Let’s look at your hand” I’m efficient as I command him and he dutifully turns. He lifts his palm to me and I can tell it’s healing. I smile slightly. I can also sense his exhaustion as I lift his heavy hand.

“You need to rest. Lay on the couch, I’m going to start looking through these bags.”

He’s too tired to protest and his chest is heavy with Mags in this moment. I look around and I can picture her here. A small cabin by the sea. I’m sure he is, too.

I watch him fall into the couch that is almost exactly his length, I take in our surroundings: the crackling fire, the crashing waves, the relative safety, and the broken boy from Four. I start to think on a few things.

This place explains a lot to me about who Johanna Mason was.

If this is where I am going to live out the rest of my days, that sits well with me.

Finnick Odair is not going to be able to climb a ladder to sleep.

I start going through bags and putting things in their new places as I hear him drifting to sleep behind me.

Arena...prison...home.


	7. Chapter 7

** Day Nineteen. **

We’ve been here two days. And we aren’t really speaking to each other. Not for any reason other than we haven’t needed to. 

It’s strange. I think because I know it still hurts him to talk so I don’t engage him any more than I have to. I ask yes or no questions and usually elicit and nod one way or another.

But I also feel like the distance is more than that. We don’t HAVE to communicate. No plan of attack, no keeping guard, no deciding who is watching who’s back. And while it’s nice...I realize that for both of us it’s brand new. It creates it’s own kind of melancholy and I can’t speak for Finnick but it’s made me realize how alone we both are.

During the day I hunt. Which is mostly just walking around familiarizing myself. The woods are strange here. The trees are different and the game is completely different, but it’s been a nice challenge. I’m always proud to bring something back with me that neither of us have really seen. To cook it over our fire and see if he likes it or not. I can tell when he does and I make a point to seek that kill out again.

I’ve found a few trees that make for easy scaling. Two I have discovered must have been outpost watch towers because they have posts drilled to climb and tiny platforms at the top. It reminds me of the first arena, but I’ve fought that anxiety off now because they also provide me a respite that I can’t find anywhere else. I think of Gale. His family. I hope that they were at least together in the end. That they didn’t suffer. That maybe they didn’t even realize what was happening. That’s what I have hoped for my mother and Prim as well. I tell myself that he fired on Twelve in the dead of night and no one saw it coming. I know him better, but it’s the only way I can suppress my utter and unbelievable sadness about them all just being...gone.

One of the watch trees provides a good view to the shoreline that creates the border to the front of our outpost. I stay in the one a lot because that shoreline is for Finnick what the tree is for me. There’s a post there that has two small boats tied to it. The first day he busied himself patching some sort of sail. The second day he was tying knots to fix an oar he had found there. He fishes from them, careful to stay close to the shore, but I also notice him dropping a small anchor from one and sitting with his knees tucked the same way I sit in my tree. I study him. Almost like I’m hunting, learning his habits. And I know he goes out there to cry. I imagine he spent lots of days just like this with Annie at his side. And now he’s as alone as I am. Finnick and his knots. Katniss and her bow. Passing each other only when it’s necessary. 

I’ve come home tonight with a large bird I can’t identify but I know it’s got plenty of meat. I watched Finnick long enough today to know he didn’t fish, so I guess it’s my turn for dinner.

We are busying ourselves as we always do. Finnick builds a strong fire while I clean and prepare to cook our dinner over it. He washes up in the bathroom and I use the kitchen. We eat quietly. He thanks me and we clean up after together. He’s pulled some of the laundry in that we hung on the patio to dry after washing it in the sea. It’s all the same. Grey pants and white shirts and grey button down coats. There were some other clothes hanging here when we arrived but they are for winter. Did they really think we would be here that long?

He’s bringing clothes in when he stops to admire something in the pile. He’s reaching in a pocket and he produces something shiny. He’s eyeing it as he notices me. I shut off the kitchen sink and we meet at the just cleared table. He opens his palm (the one that isn’t still causing him numbing pain) and reveals two things: his mockingjay bracelet and my mockingjay pin.

I smile a little as I shake my head.

“Haymitch.” I say, looking back up at Finnick as he rolls them in his hand. He matches my slight grin and I think it’s the first time I’ve seen him smile since we arrived here. He picks up the pin and hands it to me carefully. I take it, wondering if it’s some kind of a sign from Haymitch. But I’m done looking for signs and decoding messages. 

Finnick walks to the fire and sits in front of it, his legs stretched out long, one bent and one straight. Without a second thought, he’s tossed Haymitch’s bracelet into the fire. He knows it won’t burn but he’s watching it glimmer and dance in the flame. What is he doing?

I move to sit beside him, up on my knees. I twirl the pin in my fingers and he notices.

“You don’t have to be anyone’s symbol anymore.” He whispers. And he’s right. We have both given The Capitol literally everything. And we owe them nothing. In fact the only person I owe anything to is sitting right next to me in front of this fire. 

I toss it into the flames and watch it fall. We sit there in silence. Warmed by the flames. Lost in their movement. This is how we have spent the past two nights. With no television, no breaking news from 13 and no required viewing from the Capitol...we watch fire. 

Finnick yawns. I can tell by the darkness outside that it’s later than we usually eat. I move to the bathroom to find his medicine. I’m proud of my proficiency at caring for him because I know it’s a part of my mother in me that I never knew was there. We each have a small black bag that was given to us in Thirteen. A toothbrush, toothpaste, soap, razors. I sometimes think it’s a compliment when they trust us with razors. And it reminds me that Finnick might be ready for a shave. 

I grab his bag and his meds and head back to kneel by him. He’s a good patient. I wrap his hand after applying some ointment, I dutifully drip three drops into his throat and he swallows them hastily. Other than those two maladies he seems stronger every day. 

“So, I think this might be the last time I have to worry about this thankless job.”

I’m trying to make light conversation as I lift the soap and razor. I haven’t helped him to shave since we left Thirteen. I wonder if he even cares, it just makes me feel like I’m helping. He smiles a little.

“You don’t have to. I mean, unless you just hate the sight of me with it. Not much else to look at around here.”

I smile because he’s actually engaging me and even with just a hint of the charm that used to repulse me and now I crave. I take in his words and realize...I don’t hate the sight of him with it. I don’t hate the sight of him...at all.

I shake off my girlish response and hope I’m not blushing as I wet his face. He leans back on his elbows and I bend next to him. I’m pretty good at this now and he’s good at holding still so I’ve never had the guilt of slicing him. We don’t really talk until I’m done, swiping the razor over his neck one last time and then running a washcloth over her face.

He turns to me as I finish.

“I’ll miss that, actually.”

He’s not smiling. Just staring at me. And I feel goosebumps rise over my entire body just from his voice.

“I don’t have to stop. I have lots of time.”

I’m whispering to him and our words hang in the air for a minute before I have to stand because I feel dizzy. 

I go back to the bathroom and steady myself on the pedestal sink. 

_ What was that? _

I clean his razor and then plunge it back into his bag when I feel a tiny box in there. Our bags are identical. Even our clothes. But this is new.

I pick it up and it’s a small, black thing. No bigger than a postage stamp. I shouldn’t, but I open it.

Nightlock. Two of them. 

I clip the box closed and look at myself in the mirror. Finnick has nightlock. Clearly one for each of us. But I don’t. Nor has he even told me has has it. I’m confused. I don’t want to think about it, but I also can’t stop. Had he planned on using it and just not telling me? Can his pain...physical or otherwise...be so bad that he’s going to leave me here alone? 

I tuck it back into his bag and try to pretend I didn’t see it. I finish cleaning the sink and putting his medicine away.

He is still languid by the fire, staring at it intently, fresh shaven and...I’m struggling to look at him the same now. I should just ask him. 

I kneel beside him with every intention of calling him out on his secret. But watching him in the fire, I can’t bring myself past it. With no real inclination as to why, I lay beside him, placing my head on his chest, my hand on his abdomen. For a moment I think I might completely alienate him but I just had a flash of what this world looked like without him in it and I need to be close to him now. I’m not going upstairs to sleep tonight. I’m not leaving him on the couch alone to find him dead in the morning. 

But he doesn’t resist me. He reaches for the pile of blankets and pulls the whole thing under his head, laying back on it. He pulls his left arm, which had been supporting him, from under his body and wraps it around mine. I want to cry but I don’t. I just lay against him, innocently, letting him hold me as the fire warms us. 

And we both drift into a peaceful sleep. I’ll ask him on the morning.

** Day Twenty. **

I wake up drenched in sweat. Sleeping feet from a raging fire will do that. My hands are still crossed on Finnick’s chest and I grab bits of his shirt as I try to wake myself. My eyes open and then...I’m alert. The fire is out. From the looks of it it’s been out for hours. Nothing smoldering, nothing glowing. But I’m on fire. I sit up quickly, shaking myself into wakefulness as I realize what is happening. 

I’m drenched with sweat but not mine. I’m on fire. But it’s not my body heat. 

I look down at Finnick and his skin is red, glistening with sweat. His shirt looks like he just stepped out of the ocean with it. His too-long hair is matted to his forehead. I push it back immediately, placing my palm over his skin. 

He’s on fire. 

“Finnick.” I say his name trying to gently wake him to make sure he’s alright. 

No response.

I put my head to his soaked chest and listen. His heart isn’t just beating, it’s pounding.

“FINNICK.”

I shout. He stirs but not like I need him to. I take his face in my hands and I’m scared by how hot his flesh is.

“Finnick. Open your eyes.”

I’m back in the hospital, begging him to be with me. 

Something is very wrong.


	8. Chapter 8

“FINNICK, please....”

I’m grasping the sides of his face like it might help somehow if I hurt him but it causes his mouth to open and he gasps for a short breath and his eyes finally open. But I can tell he’s as concerned as I am and his eyelids seem hard to hold up.

“Can you sit up?” I’m asking him because I don’t know if I can physically lift him if he’s dead weight, but I’m motivated to so I start trying any way. He’s trying to help as best he can but I can tell it’s an effort and he groans the whole time.

“What is hurting? What is wrong?” I’m asking him like I expect him to have the answer.

“Shower...” he whispers and I know he’s right. I need to get his temperature down before he can’t thread any thoughts together at all. I remember my mother putting patients in ice and snow baths to lower their raging fevers. We have neither. But the shower will work.

We manage to get his feet under him and he staggers with me holding most of his weight into the bathroom. The shower isn’t a stall really just an open area in the corner with a shower head. I reach for it and twist the knob as the cold water pours from it and we both stumble into the corner, hissing at the freezing cold. I push him against the water and brace him against the stone wall. He lifts his arms, placing his fists and elbows there to steady himself as the water pours over his head and back. 

I make sure he is steady and then go for the medicine bag. The kind nurse talked me through most anything that could go wrong. For either of us eventually. An injury in the woods, and illness, a wound. But I know from her...and my mother...that this sudden spike in temperature means his body is fighting off an infection. I grab some antibiotics, really any I can find. Topical. Pills. Liquids. 

I turn back the shower and he hasn’t moved. His shirt and pants are soaking and now he looks like he’s shivering. I grab a pair of scissors and hold them in my teeth, working solely on instinct to make this stop as quickly as I can. I open the vial of pills and give him one. They are large. He’s been taking his food in small bites but I have no time to baby him now. I lift his head and show it to him and I don’t have to ask him to open his mouth...he just does. He tilts his head back and takes a mouthful of shower water to ease it down his throat. He hangs his head there and I imagine the cold water feels good on the inside as well as out. 

“I need to get this shirt off of you.” I want him cooling down but not chilled so I grab the scissors and start cutting it right off of him. I make one large slit up the back and push it over his shoulders.

And I see it. 

The small of his back. A deep, red, angry wound that has until this second gone unnoticed by me. And I’m guessing from it’s location, by him as well.

Did the nurses even see it? He’s been on his back but surely when they washed him. Either way it hasn’t been treated in days and we tend to the one on his hand so carefully. And they aren’t dissimilar. In fact as I gently touch the skin around it I notice it’s almost exactly like the mess on his right hand. Another exit point. He flinches as I touch it and tries to turn to look at me like he is just as surprised.

“There’s another mark here. Like your hand. Has it been hurting?” 

He shakes his head no. But I can feel from the heat on his back and the redness in his flesh that this is where his infection is. I ask him if I can turn the water temperature up. I want to clean this wound but also I’m shivering now and I need steady hands.

I make the shower lukewarm and aim the majority of the water on his back for a long while before turning it off and drying his skin. I apply what is probably too much ointment to it and it almost immediately stops glowing red. I take the gauze from my bag and cut a piece that I can tape to him. His trembling has slowed. His temperature seems to have dropped. I rock back on my heels and almost fall over as I hit the opposite wall. I want to cry. He turns and leans against the wall that’s been supporting him, but on his back this time. And I can tell that the cool stone of the shower probably gives him some relief.

“I’m so sorry Finnick, I didn’t even see it.” I’m fighting not to cry because I feel like if my job is to keep him well, I am failing miserably.

“It’s ok I didn’t either. And it’s my back.”

He’s trying to make me feel better and I appreciate it.

“Does anything else hurt? Anything else I might be missing?” He furrows his brow like he’s doing a check of his senses to see if anything hurts and then he shakes his head no. 

“I should give you a once over, just make sure nothing else looks irritated.”

As soon as I speak he is pushing his thumbs into the elastic of his soaking grey pants and easing them off his hips. The weight from the water pulling on them makes it an easy task. He gets them as low as I can start to see the small smattering of hair the same color as the mess on his head and I stand, almost falling over.

“Jesus, no. I mean, you don’t have to...I don’t want you to...”

I’m embarrassed by my childish reaction and the fact that I almost had my feet slip out from under me. 

“Katniss everyone in Panem has seen me naked. It really doesn’t bother me.”

Well it bothers me. But not as much as the tone in his voice when he discloses that information. Maybe I need to start worrying about those wounds, too.

“Well, everyone in Panem is dead now, Finnick. So right now, the only person still here with you has not. And no one needs to see anyone else’s body without their permission now. It’s a new world, right?

I’m trying to fake some confidence when, without missing a beat, he responds.

“Well you have my permission then.”

He continues with his pants and they drop to his ankles. He groans slightly as he takes one foot and then the other from them. I’m staring at his eyes and silently willing myself to not look at his body.

“It’s ok” he whispers, “we have mirrors. I’ll take it from here.”

I’m all at once relieved and insulted. I move towards him and, trying to act as much like the nurses had when they would bathe him, I steel myself to his nakedness and just do a little walk around his body. And...it’s a body. Flawless, like I expected it to be. Toned, like the swimmer he is. Long, lean muscle that is still intact despite his recent bed rest. A glowing bronze even from the parts of his body that don’t see the sun. 

“You look great.”

The words come out faster than I intended and I immediately curse myself. You look great? Why not tell him he looks hot? That would have been just as embarrassing. He chuckles a little. 

“Thanks.” He turns his back to me too quickly, suddenly shy, and reaches for one of the two towels hanging on the wall. I busy myself at the sink but damnit if I can’t keep myself from taking a side ways glance at him drying off. I tell myself I need to make sure he’s ok. But it’s more than that. And when I catch a side view of him, drying off his lower body whose form has grown and hardened, I’m suddenly aware of why he had to turn to hide himself from me. My cheeks flush and I leave the bathroom...closing the door and then leaning against it.

I realize my hands are shaking: the anxiety of him taking a turn for the worse, seeing him completely exposed and unable to shake it, and just the freezing cold clothes in still standing in. I pull them off and grab a new, identical, but dry pair. I move outside to hang my wet clothes on the porch and by the time I come back in, he has emerged from the bathroom. There are some berries I had picked and cleaned so I sit them in a bowl on the table. He joins me there, still not moving very fast, and we eat a little breakfast. I know with the horse pill he just took he needs food in his stomach. I tell him as much and he moves to the table to sit. He needs to sit.

The berries remind me. The nightlock. I tell myself this isn’t the time. But I also realize I won’t feel comfortable with him out of my sight until I ask.

“I found the nightlock in your bag from Thirteen.”

I had planned to do it more casually than that, but it worked. No sense wasting words with a boy who doesn’t feel comfortable talking. He rocks back slowly in his chair and puts the berry he was about to eat down.

“What are you thinking?” he asks plainly.

I sit back as well. Crossing my arms defensively. I think subconsciously I want him to know that whatever line he’s about to feed me I’m not going to buy it. But instead he wants me to go first. What am I thinking??

“I’m thinking that you need to be honest with me. If you’re planning on killing yourself and leaving me alone out here, I won’t stop you. But you could let me know so I can prepare. Get things ready to be on my own.”

I’m not aggressive. Just plain. I don’t let him know it would kill me. I don’t tell him he hurt me by hiding it from me. Instead I view it objectively. If he wants to die, it’s the very least I can do to just let him.

“You don’t know me very well.” He doesn’t move. Just watches me as I talk. He’s right. I don’t. I barely know him at all. And the things I think I know keep being proven to not be true.

“I know you’re like me. You have nothing left.”

He doesn’t waste a second.

“You’re wrong. I have you.”

His words catch me off guard. And I can’t trust his charm because it immediately unnerves me and I know that’s what he wants.

“So why have it then?”

I counter him and lean on the table. He matches me. I see him working in his mouth to talk and almost...almost...feel bad for making him.

“It was Haymitch’s idea. If somehow we were found out here. It would be the alternative to being taken hostage by The Capitol. They know we’ve seen Thirteen and we know Snow wants nothing more than to ruin both of us. Especially you. So I asked Haymitch to convince Coin to let us have at least that.”

That was a lot. For him to say and for me to hear.

“Why not just tell me, Finnick?”

And that’s the bones of it. Why does everyone need to protect me from the plans that involve my life? He clears his throat slightly and I notice in the sound that it’s more productive than it has been. It’s distracts me but only for a moment.

“I wanted to be sure you were going to use it unless you had to. And because you just told me you have nothing left...I think my instincts were right. You might not care if I leave, but I don’t want to be out here without you.”

There is a long, painful, uncomfortable silence. I did say that. But I...didn’t mean it. Finnick has dulled the pain of my loss and I haven’t wanted to die even once since he woke up. That’s saying a lot for me.

“You’d rather be here with Annie. Or Mags. Or Johanna...” I start into him, going on the defensive for no real reason other than he’s cornered me, “I took them all from you. Everyone. Why stay here with me? Why?”

“Calm down...please...”

That’s his only answer to my slow burning admission of guilt. It’s tumbling out of me now.

“Tell me I’m wrong, Finnick.”

He stands up. Doesn’t waste a second.

“You’re wrong.”

That’s what has been eating at me. He hasn’t talked to me and deep down I have let myself become sure that’s why. He thinks it’s my fault.

“It’s my fault....” it slips out of my brain and past my lips. Over and over again. It’s my fault.

He rounds the table and pushes the chair that I was sitting in into the table, making room for himself. He sits against it and I can see how tired he is.

“It’s not your fault, Katniss. None of this is your fault.”

The way he speaks is like a balm and I realize he has probably had to give himself this speech for years. Probably heard it from other mentors and probably gave it to other victors. He’s had more practice beating himself up than I have. He reaches for my hand and I immediately regret running it under my leaking nose but he closes his over it anyway.

“None of it. Ok? I mean except maybe letting that shit on my back get infected, but other than that....”

I look at him. He smiles. That Finnick smile. I can’t help but smile back and I chuckle to myself. 

“Look let’s make a deal. You promise me to stay with me...and I promise that whenever these feelings come over you, I’ll be here to remind you how wrong you are. Ok?”

His words make my skin tingle. It’s something I can’t really explain away. I wipe my eyes on my sleeve and nod yes, smiling at him. Embarrassed that he’s the sick one and I’m the one being coddled.

“I need to lay down. Would you...lay with me?” 

It’s like he asked me to breathe in and breathe out. Of course I will, Finnick. 

Of course.


	9. Chapter 9

** Day 23. **

Three days have passed since Finnick’s fever spiked and I am beginning to think that maybe he should have been taking an antibiotic all along. The wounds in both his back and hand look so much better we stopped wrapping them. He’s talking more and it’s sounding less and less pained. And he just seems more himself in general. Whoever he is, I feel like I’m finally getting to know him.

I know that he’s a sound sleeper. That once he falls asleep there isn’t much that can wake him. I know that he loves to eat. I think sometimes that he’s never actually been full. I know that for someone The Capitol flaunted as a piece of meat he cares very little about his looks. He rarely showers and I don’t know that he has ever owned a brush. I know that he enjoys getting under my skin. He seems to work at unnerving me and it would make me not like him if I wasn’t so charmed by his easy demeanor.And I know that he loved Annie Cresta with his whole heart and I don’t think he will ever be over the fact that she isn’t here. I know he still calls her name in his sleep.

This morning I’ve asked him if he feels like he needs a shave. I’m asking because I know that he does, although I’m starting to like him looking more rough around the edges. He insists we have too much to do which is ironic of course because we actually have nothing to do.

We wash up, eat small pieces of a loaf of bread we managed to scrap together. We joke about how ashamed of us Peeta would be and for the first time the mention of his name doesn’t sting...but it makes me smile. I check his wounds and we tend to his throat but I think we are finally just days away from not worrying about it. Yesterday I watched him fishing from my tree...and he lept from the boat at one point as though he had never been sick. But pulling himself back in proved a challenge. Baby steps.

“So what will you do today?” I ask him as I see him strapping boots on his feet. He shrugs. 

“I might go for a walk. You know, do some shopping, stop for a big fancy lunch, take a nap, hit a few parties tonight before I come back here to slum it with you, Everdeen. Yourself?”

I smile. We have played this game for a few days now. Because just telling me “I’ll be fishing” was getting boring.

“Oh you know, just another day for me: I’m going to go have my entire body waxed, hair done, host a lunch party, lay on the beach and get some sun...”

He’s chuckling to himself.

“You should.”

He interrupts me. 

“I should get some sun?”

I can’t tell if surfer boy is insulting me or not. He’s a solid ten shades darker than my District 12 complexion but I didn’t think he’d ever given it a thought.

“Well...maybe. You should come down to the beach.”

I think on it. Other than watching it from my perch in the tree I haven’t really seen the beach up close.I don’t know why I have never ventured that way. Probably the same way he has never ventured to the forest. We usually just part ways during the day and it is what it is. I think I’ve always assumed that he wanted to be alone. I think I’ve always assumed that the beach and the shore and the waves were things he wanted to keep sacred.

“You want me to come with you?” I ask hesitantly. Like he’s just asked me to the dance. He smiles at my insecurity.

“Yes. I’d like you to come with me.”

I leave my usual pack for the day and follow Finnick down to the shore. I keep fighting the urge to feel like an intruder and the beach truly is wonderfully different. The sound of the waves lapping the sand, the smell of the ocean. Even the knocking of the two boats tied together in the surf. I can see why he would like it here.

“Hold this.”

He tosses me a bag and luckily I shake myself from my feelings in time to catch it. He sits and takes his boots off, wearing them only for the sixty foot walk through the edge of the timber. I know his routine but I can’t tell him that. I don’t need him to know that most mornings I’m watching this same thing just from further away.

So I know he will take off his boots. His shirt. Tuck them behind a large piece of driftwood he has fashioned into a kind of bench. Untie the bigger of the two boats. Rig up a sail. Test his anchor. And slowly set about taking to the water’s edge.

And as he moves through his exact routine and I find myself smiling at it. I take my boots off and try to impress him by untying the boat from it’s post while he ties up and anchor. 

“Have you fished before?” He asks without turning to look at me.

“Not really, no. You know, they are harder to catch with an arrow.”

I can see him smile. Laugh it up Finnick, I’ll get you in a tree here before long and regain any footing I lose today.

He pushes the long boat into the water and, holding it steady with his foot, helps me climb in before pushing it from the sand and joining me. I’m too busy being proud that I didn’t immediately topple it over that I don’t immediately notice how skilled he really is up close. Tying knots, adjusting things, using an oar. He’s talking to me as he does it as though he means to teach me but I can’t really concentrate on any of it. Other than the fact that I think he likes that I am here.

“Tie that corner down for me?”

He gestures to a loose piece of sail that has a hanging length of rope. I grab it and look at him. Slightly lost. He chuckles.

“You can braid hair, you can tie a knot.”

He moves to my side of the boat and takes it in his hand making swift work of it. I roll my eyes gently.

“Be more confident.” He smiles a little. It’s not usually something I lack.

“You mean...be more like Annie.”

The words have left my mouth before I thought them and I feel a giant pit of regret fill my stomach so much it actually hurts. And I see it on him. He doesn’t know what to say any more than I do. He tries to fake a smile, I’m sure wondering what on earth would have made me say that. And before I can explain it he’s turned away from me to move to his work on the other side of the boat.

I wanted to say that I meant I knew he had taught her all of this. That he was used to having a partner who knew what she was doing. That I was currently paling in comparison to his usually company. I meant it self-deprecatingly, but it came out like pouring salt in a wound. I knew he wished she was here.

We sit quietly on our opposite ends of the boat. Which are still not all that far from each other. But it feels like miles now. After the longest most uncomfortable silence I have ever endured, he finally speaks.

“Annie was really brave. Funny. In a way that she didn’t think was funny but it was. She cared deeply for people. Wasn’t afraid to let them know. She treated me like a normal person, which no one else knew how to do. She loved the water. She But really she just loved her family. She loved me. She would have really loved you. She would have loved that you’re here with me. I’m sorry you never got to meet each other. But she wasn’t meant to live in a world like this one.”

Somewhere in his words I have turned my back to him completely and started to cry. Not a sob but just a gentle cry. Mourning this girl I never met. But who I know meant everything to him. I remember Johanna Mason talking to me about Annie Cresta and suddenly I’m mourning Johanna Mason, too. The girl I thought was trying to kill me who was actually saving me. 

We float in silence for hours. Neither of us talking. He fishes. I watch the water. Sometimes turning to watch him. But I don’t think there are any other words to say today.

The sun is already sinking in the sky when we round the coast to get to the small beach by our outpost. I work to help tie the boat as he pulls a net of clams from it. He passes me and places a hand softly on my shoulder.

“That’s good, Katniss. Nice work.”

He keeps moving towards the cabin and I follow in tow, boots in hand, still feeling sick and not from the water.

We go about our typical evening routine. He cleans and preps, I work on the fire. He doesn’t set the table but rather brings a large tray of shellfish to the fire and we cook and eat them one at a time. He eats some raw and I try to keep up but I’ve grown to like them better warm. 

We don’t talk much. When we have finished I clear the tray and wash the dishes, saving the shells to put outside in a pile we have started. I don’t know what the pile means for Finnick but for me it marks the passing of time. Longer stay? Larger pile.

He’s in the bathroom and I think I should maybe just apologize to him and purge this unease but too much time has passed. I clean up the sink and use the bathroom to change into a shirt to sleep in. When I come out he is sitting by the fire, watching the flames. Our nightly ritual. But the mental anguish of wanting a redo on this day is exhausting me.

“I think I’m going to head up to bed...” I whisper, knowing I have tossed him a ball he has to decide how to catch.

Since the night he got ill we have both slept together on the couch. Nothing romantic but a shared space that has made us both feel (and sleep) better. But tonight I’m feeling like I need to go back to my corner.

“Up?” He asks, almost hurt. I regret it immediately. But I’m not back pedaling.

“Yeah. Maybe you’ll sleep better without me crowding you. I feel like I did enough of that today.”

He stares at me and I want him to talk me out of it.

“Ok. Night.”

That’s it. Ok, night. I want to vomit.

I climb the ladder and don’t look back because I’m fighting off another cry. I feel like crying is all I do and I go back and forth between just owning it and being mortified by it.

I pull up the heavy blankets until I am almost buried in them. But I know I won’t sleep. I’m studying the sounds from downstairs. I hear him shift by the fire. Walk around. Get a drink. Use the bathroom. 

Climb the ladder.

He coming up here. I keep myself still under the blanket and listen. He hasn’t been up here since we arrived. Hasn’t felt sure enough of his feet to climb up. And now...he’s coming up because this is where I am.

I have my back to him and I pretend to be asleep. I hear him ascend. The ceilings are too low for him to stand and I hear him gently knock his head. I try to not smile as I hear him mutter under his breath. The bed is low to the ground. Raised only by a platform. He rounds it and moves into the sheets. I can tell he’s trying not to wake me. My covers move slightly as he pulls them up over him. My eyes are plastered shut. My heart is racing. 

“You think I really believe that you’re sleeping?” He whispers almost inaudibly.

I hold my ground for as long as I can stand.

“Yes.”

I whisper back before slowly opening my eyes.

He’s so close to me. On the couch my back is usually to his chest so for as close as we are...I don’t really see him. But now? 

I really see him.

“I’m sorry. Sometimes I say things before I think about them. It’s one of my finer qualities.” My voice is thick with sadness and regret. Because it’s absolutely true. He grins just enough to pop a dimple into one of his cheeks.

“It’s ok. You’re too hard on yourself. That’s not one of your finer qualities either.”

There’s about a foot of space between us and as if we are being pushed, we both move at the same time to close it. My heart is literally pounding so hard I know he can feel it against his chest. My breath too. His hand finds my hip as I find his shoulder and he’s kissing me. His mouth is warm and soft and gentle and I press gently into him as he pulls my whole person tightly against his body. I feel heat rising from my toes all the way through my scalp and my arms sling around him. I think we kiss for hours. Just slow and lazy, no question of what it means or what comes next. Just gentle, passionate kisses that make everything else disappear. Sometimes I just leave my lips on his and barely move them. Just to feel his breath. I want to kiss him deeper but I don’t know how all of this feels for him so I let him take the lead. And his lead is just....pure. Smallish, tiny kisses. Where I can feel the hint of a smile. I want to kiss him like this forever.

My body is warm and sated against him, we move gently in a slow rhythm like we are rocking each other to sleep. And gradually that’s what happens. Our lips lazily fall from each other’s. I find the crook of his chest where his neck dips into his collarbone. He tucks my head neatly in by closing his own over it, and we fall asleep wrapped together in something that could have felt completely foreign or wrong...but seems like the most natural thing either of us have ever done.


	10. Chapter 10

**Day 24.**

I wake up slowly and feel more rested than I have in longer than I can remember. I hear movement in the kitchen below and I can roll over and see through the balcony enough to watch Finnick busying himself over some kind of breakfast. I feel like I am perched in my tree studying him. He’s really pretty proficient in the kitchen. Much more than I am. I think about why that might be. How long had he been responsible for himself? Did he have a family? Parents? Did he live alone once he won his games? At 14? He’s a mystery. 

I sling my feet off the bed and let them fall to the floor gently. He notices. 

“Morning.”

He calls up to me without turning.

“Good morning.” I call back. I don’t think we’ve ever wished each other good morning. We usually hit the ground running into whatever our days holds. I smile at this new change. I run my fingers through my hair and loosely braid it. I climb down the ladder in just my shirt and am suddenly aware that if he is watching me...he’s seeing more of my body than I would typically be comfortable with. But I don’t care. That’s new, too.

I hop down, bypassing the lowest two rungs. Something smells good. I walk to the kitchen and while my instinct is to sit at the table (there’s a glass of water there for me) I pass it and move to the counter. Next to him. He looks at me sideways and smiles. I nudge my shoulder into him slightly taking him off balance. He fashioned some kind of jam and he’s smearing it neatly onto two tiny pieces of our makeshift bread. 

“That’s impressive,” I whisper to him. For what little we have to work with, it actually is, “did you toast it?”

I notice there’s a small fire crackling in the fireplace and smile.

“You’ve been up awhile...”

Judging from the state of the fire I’m guessing at least an hour. Did the same thing that helped me sleep deeply...keep him awake? He doesn’t answer. Just smiles. He turns and places our plates at the table. We sit across from each other in our usual silence.

Come on, Finnick. Say something. Maybe even about last night? Let me know I’m not the only one still thinking about it?

“So...what’s on your agenda today, Katniss Everdeen?” He asks, swallowing his last bite of breakfast. He eats so fast I wonder if he even tastes food. I shake my head lightly.

“Well I’m going to start by organizing my clothes and jewelry, of course,” he nods along approvingly but I pause...because for the first time in a long time I do have an agenda, “actually there’s this cocky beach boy from District Four that I’m going to teach to use a bow and arrow today.” 

He smiles and bites the inside of his cheek.

“You think I’m cocky?”

I lean into the table and fold my hands.

“I think you want me to think you are.”

I grin slightly. He leans in and squints like he is trying to figure me out.

“And you think I don’t know how to use a bow?”

He raises an eyebrow and suddenly I’m playing and replaying footage in my mind of the training center. Did he use a bow? Can he? Is there anything he can’t do? Damnit. I’m not going down this easy.

“Not like I do, you don’t.”

We both smile and he knows I’ve just bested him. It’s a feeling that is new to him and it gives me more pleasure than it should to beat him at something.

“So...what’s your plan today?” I start clearing the table, taking his plate and mine to the sink, when I feel him behind me, placing our glasses in the sink.

“Actually my schedule just cleared for the day. So it looks like you’re teaching me how to use a bow.” 

His voice is right in my ear over my shoulder and I feel my knees buckle slightly. I drop a plate. He chuckles. The loud crash of glass is alarming. But what’s more alarming is as the noise from the sink settles we notice something else. A noise from outside. A loud whirring breeze of a noise with the sharp loud purr of hugeturbines. We know it well. 

It’s a hovercraft. It’s low and it’s close. 

And just like that, two tributes are back in the arena. I drop the rest of the dishes in the sink and shout his name.

“Get your shoes!” He shouts. I realize I’m not even dressed. He’s already moving to the closet for his trident and my bow. The craft is closing in on the trees next to the cabin and forcing them up against it and the whole place rattles. I’m scrambling into my boots as Finnick tosses my bow to me and by some miracle, I catch it.

We are moving fast, synced up in our unspoken need to get as far from the cabin as possible. I turn, not even taking the time find pants and move as he is pushing me out the door.

I stop in my tracks. Turn to him.

“Finnick. The nightlock.”

We stare at each other for a moment we know we can’t spare before he makes a run for the bathroom and swipes the black box, opening and dropping it behind as he does. He slips his in a pocket and realizes I have no pants on before he pushes it into my boot. I stare at him. Realizing that this moment right here could be goodbye. My heart actually hurts.

“Go!” 

He yells and I move. Knowing that we are safer in the timber than on the beach I take the lead. I’m moving as fast as my legs can take me on a trail at first and then into the thick undergrowth. The itchweed in my bare legs stings like fire but I can’t stop. The only thing scaring me now is that with the noise of the hovercraft I can’t hear him behind me and I’m terrified I’m moving too fast for him. My foot catches on a tree root I miss and I fly forward, not enough time to catch myself, and my face takes the brunt of the fall. I lose several arrows but before I can even assess the situation, Finnick’s armsaround my waist are pulling me into my feet. He’s still with me.

“You’re alright. Keep moving!”

He’s shouting and I listen. I remember a large downed tree in the woods. If I can find it it’s the best place I can think of to hide. I’m pushing my body faster as I see it up ahead. Please still be with me Finnick, I think as I jump several logs. I can barely feel my legs and my head is throbbing. I feel a warm trickle of blood running down the bridge of my nose. I dive into the brush under the tree and the large, still green branches obscure me. And no sooner am I catching my breath, I feel Finnick do the same. 

We lay still. My hand on my bow, his trident the closest thing to the edge of the brush. We hide. Waiting. The hovercraft is gaining on us, slowly but surely. I feel he pill in my boot and think about it’s implications. I close my eyes and imagine them torturing me to find him. And then vice versa. He’s right. We can’t go back.

I see him tighten his grip as the hover is right over us, pushing the brush that covers us as we both try to slink further back under it. I whisper his name. He can’t hear me.

With no warning at all the hovercraft seems to evaporate as quickly as it appeared. Taking it’s leave from right above us. It’s eerily still and I can’t stand it. I hear our labored breath. A few confused birds chirp in the trees. But everything is absolutely still. He turns to me and winces.

“Are you ok?” He whispers. I nod. But I’m not. I know he knows. He’s already assessing my head wound before looking down on my legs. They are shredded from the weeds we ran through. Razor sharp leaves my father would warn me to avoid. Of all the foliage that is similar here, it had to be itchweed. And my head starts to pound. 

“Stay here.”

He whispers to me but I grab his arm.

“Absolutely not.”

If we don’t hear the hover, and there is no other sound that would imply someone got off of it, we are safer going anywhere together than apart. He nods, knowing better than to fight with me, and helps me to my feet. I cry out at the stabbing poisonous reaction covering my legs. He looks around quickly before laying his trident back under the fallen tree. And just like that he is pulling me up into his arms and carrying me against his chest...moving slowly back towards the cabin.

“Fastest way to get to the beach...you know these woods better than I do....”

I point. I’m crying now and I can’t control it. If I had an axe I would cut my legs off at the hip rather than feel this pain. I scream. My eyes are starting to get heavy and I know I hit my head harder than I realize.

“It’s alright Katniss. Almost there.” He’s moving impressively considering I am dead weight in his arms. I point to a turn up ahead that I know leads right to a dune. He takes it swiftly and we are in a clearing of sand. The ocean waves lapping just feet from us.

“I’m sorry in advance” he whispers before carrying me into the ocean. When the salt hits my legs I scream so loud I make myself hoarse. If they didn’t know where we were before, they will now. It’s the feeling I can recall from the stinging pain of the poison fog in the arena. Clearly Finnick is no stranger to itchweed and he’s calmly whispering for me to ‘shhhhhhhh’ as I bellow hard into his shoulder, noticing the warm blood from my head has left a mess on the white shoulder of his shirt.

After a few minutes of flailing in his arms, I feel myself calming as the water does it’s work of taking the unbearable sting from my skin. And only then I realize the gravity of our situation.

“They left....why? They had to know we were here...we left a fire.....”

I’m trying to string thoughts together and I can see that he is, too.

“Listen.”

He holds up a finger to quiet me and I hear it, too. A dull but consistent beeping and I know it well. Somewhere it’s attached to a small vessel that is attached to a silver parachute.

They left something behind. We stare at each other for a moment. Finnick, soaked from the water as I am, crouches down and I crawl up onto his back. He lifts me easily and walks along the shore until we reach the path that leads to the outpost. And there it is. The beeping. The glowing silver parachute. An envelope attached to it. 

Finnick approaches it cautiously and we can both see our names in cursive on the front. Finnick’s body tenses nervously. But mine relaxes as I slide off of his back and run towards it.

“Katniss, no, be careful.”

“It’s ok,” I tell him. I recognize the handwriting, “it’s from Haymitch.”

I kneel and untie it. Holding it in my trembling hands looking it over. What might it hold inside for us. Hope? News? Fear?

“Let’s get inside, clean that head up.”

I know he’s right. I am desperately afraid to open it but the blood in my eye and the blinding headache would keep me from reading anyway. He’s at my side helping me stand, and I lean into him as he carries me to into the outpost. 

He eases me into the kitchen chair and makes a run for the bathroom. I sit the envelope on the table. Right in the center. Staring at our names. Together. 

Finnick reappears at my side with the same tube of ointment we’ve been using to treat his hand and a wet towel. I wince as he presses it to my forehead but the coolness of it immediately soothes my headache. He cleans it off dutifully.

“You’re pretty good at that.” I whisper through a hiss.

“Well, I learned from the best.” He smiles sweetly and then runs his fingers through the ointment before smearing it across the lump between my eyes.

“Is it bad?” I ask. He leans forward and kisses it gently.

“I’ve seen worse.” He answers, brushing away the hair that has stuck to the ointment. He turns to face the letter. He pushes it towards me on the table.

“Read it.”

I want to tell him I don’t want to. I want to tell him that I don’t care what it says. But I’m as curious as he is and the fact that it comes from Haymitch has to be a good sign....doesn’t it? 

I take it from him and gingerly open it. Trying to hold my hands still.

** Dear Finnick and Katniss, **

** Congratulations. You’ve stayed alive. I will say my greatest fear was the you’d kill each other so the fact that you haven’t is a testament to your patience. (Finnick, my money was on you. Everdeen can be a real piece of work. **

** You would have no idea of this but early this morning, before dawn, rebel forces took the heart of the Capitol and his royal pain in the ass President Snow is in custody awaiting trial.  **

** That’s the good news.  **

**The bad news is we were unable to take their weapons stronghold out in District 2. Our rebel forces there were alerted that they have preprogrammed attacks going out in response to the charge of the Capitol and are targeting what they believe to be underground cells of resistance in most districts. District 7 being one of them.**

**While our original plan was to leave you there until we were able to provide you sanctuary somewhere, we no longer have that luxury.**

**President Coin, who is acting as interim ruler of Panem, will be sending a hover back for you tomorrow at sunrise.**

**Katniss...you will return to The Capitol to make some appearances alongside President Coin letting the people of Panem know that the Mockingjay has survived, and is proudly and fully in support of this new regime to bring peace to Panem. I’ll be there right alongside you.**

**Finnick...there were two large shipping vessels that survived that attack in District 4 but they are largely unmanned. President Coin has instructed you to be on board one of them. You will man it with just the handful of skilled seamen left who can, from District 4 to District 13 and then work to teach and assemble a group of young sailors so that we can gradually regain control of the seas and sea merchants to help with trade.**

**I know this isn’t what we expected. But for now we all have jobs to do. I know I can count on you both to do what’s right. As free citizen’s of a new Panem.**

**I’ll see you in the morning. Stay alive.**

**Haymitch**

My hands are trembling as I sit the letter back down on the table. My voice has shaken the entire time I’ve been reading it to him. I raise my eyes to try to read his face. Does this sit as uneasily with him?

But he’s gone.

He’s turned from the table and left the kitchen. And the cabin. Slamming the door behind him. 


	11. Chapter 11

He’s been gone all day. The sun is already starting to set. I’m not worried about him because I know where he is. I can close my eyes and see him floating in the water, knees to his chest. I’m not worried.

I’m angry. Angry that he knows that by this time tomorrow we will be worlds apart by force and now he’s making us worlds apart by choice. 

I’m angry at myself. I want to go back and relive every moment of the week we spent here. A week that felt like an eternity. I want to talk to him more. Stay with him more. Kiss him more. 

I’m trying to keep myself busy putting the things that we have used here away. I have no idea what they will want us to take or leave behind. But I’m folding blankets and towels. Washing and rewashing dishes. Stepping onto the patio every so often, hoping for a sign that he’s decided to come home.

Knock it off, Katniss. This isn’t home. Clearly...Finnick knows that.

As the sun sets I light a fire. I don’t know if he has fished, and I didn’t hunt. But I’m not even slightly hungry so it’s ok. I just sit by the fire. Steeling myself against the constant urge to cry. I remind myself that I trust Haymitch. But this plan is as appealing to me as being taken by Snow. Convince people to like Alma Coin when I’m not sure I like her myself? 

I’m hastily thinking of things to say to Haymitch when I see him. And I hear Finnick outside. He slips into the same door he slammed hours ago, setting down a net...but it’s empty. I turn back to the fire and try to come up with something to say to him that doesn’t let him see how much I am hurting.

“Are you hungry?” He asks, almost sheepishly.

I turn, eyeing the empty net.

“Does it matter if I am?” It’s supposed to sound funny. It doesn’t. He hangs his head slightly at the edge to it.

“It’s on the beach. Dinner.”

I’m watching him. There’s real sadness there. I stand without saying anything and watch as he puts another long sleeved shirt on so I do the same. We walk, barefoot, through the timber to the dunes. 

He’s made a fire that mine is no match to. It blazes on the beach, next to his driftwood bench. There is fish speared and cooking over it. A heap of clams that make me wonder if he left any behind.

“Finnick...” I whisper, even if I’m not sure why.

He sits by the fire. Resting his back against the driftwood, the sunset reflecting off of him. In a moment, every angry feeling I fought during the day has disappeared. I pull my chilly hands into my sleeves and sit next to him. Close to him. Our bare toes warming by the fire. I lean my head on his shoulder. 

Judging by the sunset we let a half an hour pass before speaking or moving. But he starts pulling apart the meat he was firing...handing me some, having some for himself, until we have eaten as much as we can handle.

He’s chucking shells into the surf. I’m tracing my fingers in the sand. The mockingjay.

“It’s what you’ve wanted. You’ll be on the sea. Helping people. Teaching people. It’s what you were meant to do.”

I’m whispering to him and I don’t know who I am trying to convince of it. Him...or me. He doesn’t respond. Just chucks another shell. It’s quiet.

“And you’ll have Haymitch. He’ll protect you. I’m glad for that.”

His words have the same tension as mine. Yes. I’ll be with Haymitch. Why is that providing me no comfort.

I’m running out of time to say the things I need to say. So, in true Katniss fashion...

“I don’t want to be with Haymitch. I want to be with you.”

He has a shell in his hand he was poised to throw but, my words catch him off guard. He sits it in the sand and hangs his arms over his knees, his head between them.

“I know.”

I almost can’t hear him. I move behind him, kneeling, and wrap my arms around his shoulders. He reaches back and covers a hand with mine.

“We could stay here. Take our chances.”

He turns over his shoulder to talk to me. I rest my head there.

“Would she let us?”

He looks back over the water. He and I both know the answer is no. And it’s that thought that is eating at me. Haymitch called us free citizens of Panem. He of all people knows better.

I can feel the heaviness in Finnick’s chest. I wrap my arms around him tighter. I don’t know where my confidence comes from other than a feeling in my gut that in this moment, like we were the night before, we are in the same place. I pull my arms from him and slink around his side. He rests back on the driftwood and I move my right leg over him, sitting against his lap facing him. My hands rest on his chest and his find the sides of my face. He stares into me. Not at me. Into me. It’s too intense.

I press my head into his neck and he holds me tight against him. I feel him kissing the side of my face and I slowly move my head back to meet him. The tears I have battled all day start to run over my cheeks and I fight to ignore them. He’s kissing me like he needs me. I’m kissing him like I may never get another chance. 

“I want you to come with me.”

I pull from him, begging even as he continues to kiss me. He’s pulling us back into the sand. 

“I’m with you now.” His voice is trembling. Everything is trembling. 

He rolls us gently together until most of his weight is on me. The sand on my back is warm from the fire. The muscles in my torso are instinctively tightening and pressing up into him and he moans. And returns it. I feel him. So hard against my stomach. It’s all I can think about. His kisses are picking up steam and suddenly what was gentle and innocent feels primal and needy. Like no matter what I do I can’t get close enough to him. 

I’ve never done this before but something about him makes it feel like what I was meant to be doing. He slips his hand into my shirt and I cry out his name as I feel his warm fingertips crawling up my stomach and taking my breast in his hand. He’s all but grinding himself against my pubic bone and I feel like I’m seeing stars. I’m suddenly aware we are outside and then quickly reminded there is not another soul in sight. Or anywhere close, for that matter. He’s playing with my chest and I moan every time his hand digs into my flesh. My nipples are so hard they ache and the occasional breeze he is allowing up my shirt is almost more than I can stand. 

I’m pretty sure he’s moving as hard and as fast against my stomach as he would be inside of me, which is where I want him so badly. I reach between us and he adjusts as he feels me trying to get into his pants. I slip my hand in tentatively and moan his name when I take him in my fingers. Gently at first, but he’s pushing his hips into my hand and holding his shirt out of the way. He skin is slick, hot, harder than I expected and I move my hand over him desperate to feel every inch. There’s a fascinating pulse just under his skin that feels like his heartbeat. 

He’s whispering my name...I’m calling out for him. I’m weeping now against my own volition and it’s just dark enough to not tell, but I think he is, too.

Suddenly, with a shock I almost can’t understand at first, he’s pulled himself from my hand. And in a similarly swift and unexpected movement, he’s removed himself from me completely. He pulls himself into a ball, adjusting his pants and shirt, wiping his face (I was right...he was crying) and running his hands through his beach worn hair. 

I’m laying sprawled out on the sand, heaving. My shirt half exposing me, my hair full of sand, the space between my legs wet from both sides of it. I can’t catch my breath but I’m trying suddenly to cover myself and pull myself together.

“I’m sorry. I can’t.”

He whispers, turning halfway to me but not looking at me.

“Finnick what did I do?” I’m embarrassed, horrified, wanting to hide. Desperate for him to help me but afraid of what that means.

He stands up and kicks sand at the fire, causing the flames to immediately start to fade. I stand up, mostly because whether he realizes it or not he’s kicking sand at me. I grab his arm.

“Hey...”

He doesn’t pull from me, and he stands still. Both of these things surprise me. But he still won’t look at me. 

“What did I do?”

He knows me well enough to guess that I have zero experience and in this moment I’m allowing myself to assume that is what made him move from me.

“What are we doing Katniss? Making this harder than it has to be? You really think being out on a ship as part of Coin’s army is what I want? But it’s happening whether we like it or not so...what is this going to do but make tomorrow impossible for both of us. We need to just...stop.” 

He’s efficiently put out the fire and he turns back for the outpost leaving me there. Crying. In shock.

Knowing he is absolutely right. Why do something that will make me miss him more? 

Want him more....

Love....love him more.

I take my time getting back to the outpost. When I slip in the door, he’s on the couch. I head past him to brush my teeth. Wash my face. It’s red and swollen. I turn off the light. All the lights. I move to the ladder.

Against my better judgement I call to him...

“Come with me. Please, Finnick?”

There’s a long and languid pause that makes me sick. This could be the last night we have. Don’t say no.

“I’m sorry...” he whispers.

I’m sorry, too. The boy from District Four who kept me alive and, for a few brief days, made me feel like he loved me.

I climb the ladder and cry myself to sleep.


	12. Chapter 12

** Day 25. **

I’m up before the sun. The sound of my feet on the floor stirs Finnick on the couch below me. So I know he wasn’t sleeping. He’s quick to get to his feet and fold the blanket he had been sleeping on. Neither of us know what time we have, just that the hovercraft is supposed to come by morning.

We both stumble in the dark. I climb down the ladder and brush my teeth before pulling on my standard issues. I zip into a jumpsuit and braid my hair.

The pin.

I go to the fireplace and sift through the soft coat of black ash on the bottom. My mockingjay. Tarnished, but effective. Just like me, I suppose.

I fasten it to my pocket. 

I move to the kitchen for a glass of water, Finnick is outside pulling clothes in from the line. He enters with a toothbrush hanging from the side of his mouth and meets me at the kitchen sink. As I fill a glass of water he stands next to me and spits a wad of toothpaste suds into the basin. I recoil audibly. He smiles at me slightly.

“Didn’t want you to miss me too much” he teases.

Finnick Odair, you have no idea how much I’ll miss you.

We stay busy packing and prepping until there’s nothing left to do. Almost. I’m sitting on the couch. The fireplace is cold and dark but I’m imagining a raging fire. Finnick sits next to me.He takes my hand in his and holds it for a moment. I let myself squeeze it tight. Remembering when that was all he could say to me.He turns my palm towards the sky and produces the nightlock. He closes my fingers around it.

“Just in case. Tell Haymitch we lost them.”

I nod quietly. I know now that Finnick is as unsure of our situation as I am and I wonder where he is storing his. I hate this. I hate them. The only thing keeping me going is the idea that when I get to The Capitol I am going to find Snow and kill him. For Finnick.

We sit. Staring. Holding hands. Waiting.

“Can I ask you something?”

His voice floats through the empty, echoey space.

“Of course.”

I answer and then hold my breath. He is searching for the right words to say. 

When we hear them. 

Them. From two different directions. Two hovercraft. We stand quickly. Each grabbing the same bag we deployed with. I take a quick glimpse at the outpost. Our outpost. I want to throw up. Finnick takes my hand again. 

“It’ll be ok. I promise. I’ll find a way to you.”

We move quickly out the front door and the whole forest is moving unnaturally from the forced air. Two crafts. One to our left and one to our right. The one to the left is close enough that I see a ramp lower. My heart is racing. I feel the walls closing in. Finnick tries to take his hand from mine and I can’t make myself let go.

“NO” I shout to him. 

I see Haymitch in the ramp. He’s screaming for me, waving me towards him. 

“KATNISS YOU HAVE TO GO. NOW.” Finnick is screaming and I can still barely hear him, “I PROMISE.”

He closes his mouth on mine and kisses me deeply. He’s pulled his hand from mine and takes off running into the woods in the opposite direction.

“FINNICK!”

He never looks back.

I turn and run towards a frantic Haymitch. He pulls me up into the craft as the ramp closes in behind me. We fall slightly as the craft takes to the air quickly. He’s holding me as I cry. 

I know he saw. I know he knows. My only solace is that maybe it will help him...help me.

Goodbye, Boy from Four....with the impossibly messy hair, glowing eyes and scruffy face. I owe you a shave.

Stay alive.


	13. Chapter 13

** Day 35. **

I’ve been back in The Capitol for ten days. Ten. Long. Days. Haymitch tries to convince me that everything is going to work out. At night, when I can’t sleep, I picture him saying that. And then I picture Finnick promising to come for me. 

A promise he made that was completely out of his control. He knew it. 

I cry for him. Constantly. His loss is more real than any of the others because I know he’s out there somewhere. I wonder what his days look like now. Without me. I wonder if he’s missing me, too.

“Knock knock.”

I’m deep in thought in my majestically expansive Capitol apartment when Haymitch enters. He is in adjoining quarters, at my request. Being one of only two surviving humans that I trust.

“Haymitch.” I force a smile as he sits at the long dining table. I’ve been sitting here for an hour. Pushing food around on my plate. 

“Coin said she’s doing her best to get word to Finnick’s ship.”

“Coin is a liar. She’s been saying that for days. I don’t believe for one second she doesn’t know exactly where he is.”

Haymitch rocks back, chewing on a donut. 

“Well maybe he doesn’t want to be found then.”

I glare at him. He knows that hurt me.

“Let’s go for a walk.”

He stands, plowing the rest of the pasty into him mouth and rounding the table to take me by the arm. He practically pulls me into the hallway.

I know he’s avoiding her cameras. So I comply. The hallway is noisy. We can talk undetected here.

“Finnick trusted you.” I spit at him.

“You’re damn right he did. And you should too. Now shut up and listen to me.”

He pauses to smile a fake smile at a passing attendant.

“Snow is set to be executed in two days. Two. Coin wants you to do it. She wants it to be a spectacle. She wants to put you on display, take all the credit for you and then...well then who the hell knows. But I’m telling you. That’s just the beginning. We need to stop them both. Before she has the chance to make you a martyr.”

I stop him. A martyr? Martyrs die.

“A martyr? What are you talking about....”

He smiles again at a group of chatty women before turning down a more crowded hall.

“The people’s allegiance is to you. Not to her. She knows it. You kill Snow, you become their hero. Not her. That’s a chance she’s not willing to take. And I’m not gonna let her. She sent Finnick out to sea. To get him out of the way. What do you think her plan is for you?”

I take in his words and replay every interaction I’ve had with her. It adds up. And I know he’s right. I’m no use to her alive once I give her her final act. Her grand finale. Then she’s the grieving President uniting a nation of people...under her power.

“So what do we do?”

He pulls me in closer.

“I’ve arranged a meeting for you. With Snow. With two guards we can trust. Tomorrow at noon. While you’re taking care of Snow....I’ll take care of Coin.”

I stare at him. Hardly able to believe what I’m hearing and unable to imagine Haymitch killing anyone, let alone Coin. 

I nod slowly. He kisses my cheek and smiles. Too big. 

“That’s my girl.” He practically shouts before slapping my arms and walking off. I watch him leave. I slink back to my room, passing the same groups of people. Those lucky few of us that are still here to experience this new Panem. Such as it is. 

I close my door and slink down on the inside of it. Landing on the floor. 

Do I trust Haymitch? Does it matter if the end result is me killing Snow?? It’s the only thing I care about other than Finnick and it’s a very welcome distraction. 

I spend the day making the rounds as Coin’s right hand. Smiling, talking, greeting. She introduces me as her friend and I want to explode. We are not friends. 

By the end of the night, after an elaborate dinner party, I all but fall into bed. I prop up a row of pillows and slink backwards into them, remembering how it felt to sleep pressed into Finnick. It’s the only thing that buys me any rest. And I’ll need it for tomorrow.

When I kill Coriolanus Snow.

** Day 36. **

I don’t sleep. All I can think about is Snow. His face. It’s haunting me. And I want to see him pay. I want to see him dead. And the idea of doing it when it’s just the two of us makes it all the more enticing.

I pace. I dress in black. I braid my hair tightly. I look in the mirror at the job I’ve done and I see the faint scaring between my eyebrows from my fall in the woods. I close my eyes and touch it. Remembering Finnick’s fingers on it. 

I think of our last night together. His recoiling from me on the beach. How so many layers of that could be blamed squarely on Coriolanus Snow.

Was he afraid to leave me? To love me?

Snow.

Was he ashamed of the things he associated with being intimate?

Snow.

Was he feeling the guilt of someone still morning his love?

Snow.

I put my arrows on my back, hoping I can convince whoever asks that it’s just part of the costume. That no one needs to know what intend to do with them. 

There’s a knock on the door. Two guards. I follow them wordlessly (grateful that no one mentions my bow) and I hope that they really are two men Haymitch could trust. We find the elevator and ride it to the lowest level of the place. Once we depart there is a small doorway with another staircase that takes us down five more flights. At the bottom the guards use a code and facial recognition to open it. My stomach is starting to turn.

We get through and it’s dark and silent. A small desk with a young woman who seems to know the guards, and then two long hallways.

“We will wait for you here, per Haymitch’s directives. He’s at the end of the hallway on the right.” He gestures down one of the halls.

“You’re not coming with me?”

The three of them give me knowing smiles.

“Plausible deniability. We have no idea what you’re doing.”

One says sharply, followed by the girl at the desk.

“But good luck, and call us if you need us”

She holds up the same three finger salute from District 11 and my heart hitches. I whisper a thank you and then take off down the long hallway.

My feet echo. So does my heartbeat. I look in some of the rooms as I pass them. Holding chambers. Interrogation rooms. Torture chambers. Jail cells. This is the dark heart of the Capitol. I find my feet stopping at one when something through the small window grabs my attention. I ease the door open and see a bed. Strange black rubber sheets, walls hung with things I can only imagine what someone would do with: gags, harnesses, cuffs, whips, and worse.

Finnick. Have you had to be here too?

It’s the last piece of resolve I need. I pull the door shut and head to the room that holds Snow. I smell him before I see him. The sweet smell of roses, the coughing against his will.

The key is in the door and I turn it. Opening it slowly and finding him sitting...a broken, disgusting old man, on a cot at the room’s center. His eyes light up to see me. I had assumed they would fill with dread.

He is happy to see me.

“Oh Miss Everdeen, I had hoped it would be you.”

He coughs again but smiles through it.

I draw a bow immediately, letting him know I am not here for a visit.

“Yes. Yes. I know. You have to be the one. I had hoped you would be. Because I knew in your anger and hatred for me it would be swift.”

Shoot him now, Katniss don’t let him in your head.

“It’s certainly a different world up there now, isn’t it Katniss Everdeen? Not one I would particularly want any part of. So really. This is a favor. You coming to put me out of my misery.”

He coughs up blood into his already stained handkerchief and I feel myself fight the urge to throw up as I smell it.

“What do you want, Snow? You want me to make it fast? So they can’t torture you? Is that it? What if I blow up your family first? Maybe try to burn you alive from the inside out? Force you to service people...make you a slave...am I getting close?”

“None of that ends with me,” he interrupts me with a greater force than I expect, “none of it. You have no idea who you are dealing with in Alma Coin. But I do. Picking and choosing who to keep alive. Who to do her dirty work. So she can have the same power I had. Has she talked to you about her plans? How she intends to re-populate Panem? You thought that your friend Mr. Odair had it badly with me. At least I gave him an arrangement.”

“SHUT UP. You’re lying.”

“Am I? Do you really think she couldn’t have rescued Peeta? Or any of the others? Just how quickly do you think I could have imploded an entire arena. When my communications were down. You think I might be right and that’s why I’m still breathing.”

I still hold my arrow at his face but my hands are trembling now and I know he sees it.

“My dear Katniss this is an impossible weight for you to carry and I am sorry. I truly am. I know you didn’t want any of this. But I want you to really think about what I’m saying and why I would lie. Promise me you’ll ask her about the boats she deployed from District 4.”

My heart is pounding and I have to drop my bow. Finnick’s boats. How does he know??

“Why don’t you just tell me yourself if you’re so...anxious for me to know...”

My voice trembles worse than my fingers and the fact that I am having to keep him alive is beginning to unsettle me. He smiles. He knows.

“There’s only one person in The Capitol who knows the position of those boats. And only one person on the boat who knows how to get them home. And it is not Finnick Odair. So, you see, my dear, she had to keep him trapped out there...so that she would be sure you would continue to work for her. So that she could control you. And that if you killed her, he would be lost.”

Without thinking at all I draw a bow, screaming at him, and launch it through his mouth and out the back of his head. He’s still smiling. With my arrow resting on his bloody lips. I’m screaming. 

Haymitch.

I run screaming from Snow’s cell. The guards have weapons drawn and they are running towards me. Running the wrong way.

I am screaming to them to find Haymitch. Call Haymitch. Stop Haymitch. If he kills her. We lose Finnick. 

The guards catch me and in a panic I try to speak.

“Please...use your radio...call Haymitch. Right now.”

The other guard shakes his head. 

“We were instructed to accompany you here and safely back to your room. He ordered us not to contact him until we all met back there.”

“No. This is different. Please. Please. Where is he?”

They exchange a knowing glance.

“He was going to President Coin’s chambers.”

My feet fall from under me. One of the guards catches me and the young woman from the desk is running towards us.

“Please I’m begging you. You need to take me there right now. We are all in danger.”

“Do it.” The girl tells the guards before producing a gun from the back hem of her skirt. 

They help me to my feet and we run to the elevator...riding it from the very bottom to the very top. My ears pop and pinch and my body aches. I can still see Snow. His snake like grin even in death. I’ve never shot anything from that close range and it will be with me forever. 

The elevator doors slip open just in time for us to hear it.

Pop.

Pop.

Pop.

Three sounds that we all know to be gun shots.

“No” I whisper running towards them. The guards follow me closely, the three of us with weapons drawn. We round several now quiet corners before finding her chambers. She is slumped at her desk. Three distinct growing red circles on her chest. 

Haymitch. He’s standing just feet from her, his gun still drawn. I run right past him and grab her. She coughs and sputters and turns her head to me.

“Where is it?! Where is Finnick’s boat?!”

I’m shouting in her face and she barely registers. I slap her.

“TELL US WHERE THE BOATS ARE.”

She smiles faintly and a tear falls from her eye as it works on closing.

“Katniss.....you took everything...from me.....I’m taking....everything.....from you.”

Her eyes don’t close but her heart and breathing stop. My hands are red and clenched on her shoulders so hard they ache.

“No. No no.”

Suddenly Haymitch is at my side. His hand on my shoulder.

“We had to Katniss. This is the way to make Panem free. We did what we had to do. Now the people decide. We did that.”

I’m sobbing against her and he thinks it’s her that I am mourning. I turn and try to compose myself. Inhaling deeply. I can tell killing her has shaken him, too.

“Haymitch...she knows where Finnick is. No one else does. She stranded him....to control me.”

I watch the words come over Haymitch’s face as the hand holding the gun trembles so much it drops to the floor.

“No...”


	14. Chapter 14

** Day 45. **

Another ten days.

Ten days of worrying, wondering, questioning, dreading.

Ten days in a prison cell for assassinating Snow.Although I use prison cell lightly. This is not the cell that Snow was in. No musty room in a dark basement. This is basically an apartment. I can’t come and go, in fact I haven’t left it since the day they brought me here, but there is a bed. A table. A cabinet with food. A bathroom and a shower. 

This is where I pay the price for taking matters into my own hands. And somewhere in this building, Haymitch is paying, too.

The guards they have assigned to me are the same two that accompanied me to kill Snow, so I find relief knowing that I am being protected. And informed. For the first time in my life I feel aware of what at is going on and what plans are being made. Ironic that it took the prison and isolation of an arrest to get someone to include me on the plans that impact my life.

I know that we are being held as a courtesy. That while the remaining powers that be agree with the fact that both Snow and Coin needed to be put down, it’s the matter in which it was done that concerns them. And the idea that pardoning us with no punishment might incite anyone with a gun and a vengeance to become a vigilante is a risk they cannot take. There are few people left in this world that don’t have a chip on their shoulder or an axe to grind with someone in the Capitol. I can’t be their symbol now.

I know that they are assembling survivors in positions of power...including some former Victor’s who had gone into hiding...to create a governing body and hold an election.

I know that it’s that election that has to happen before Haymitch and I can be pardoned and released.

I know that they are using all available hovercraft to find landlocked survivors and that will be done before they send rescue missions out to sea to find anyone. To find Finnick. But the good news is the surviving Victor’s are demanding he be found and have a voice in how to move forward.

So my survival might literally and figuratively hang on one thing. Finding Finnick. If they find him...he will save me. And if they don’t...I don’t care if I survive anyway.

It’s lunch time and the knock on the door lets me know the guards will be bringing me my usual: a cup of some kind of broth and a chunk of bread. I don’t mind it. I’m not hungry but I get dizzy from the four walls of this room so I force myself to eat it.

But today it isn’t the familiar guards. It’s Plutarch Heavensbee. I don’t know whether to be hopeful or disgusted by his presence. He smiles, holding my tray, as the guards close and lock the door behind him.

“May I?”

He’s asking to sit and I nod slowly, sitting across the table from him as he does. He sets the tray down and gently pushes it to me.

“It’s good to see the Mockingjay again.”

“I’m not the Mockingjay.”

He smiles and shakes his head.

“You are. And it’s a good thing, too. Because the people in the City Center are rallying for your release. The votes will come down in your favor to be sure. We just have to be patient. And then...figure out what to do with you.”

“And Haymitch?” I ask nervously. He rocks back, still smiling.

“He was a harder sell. An old drunk that never made many friends here. And of course no one hated Coin the way they hated Snow. But the more we learn about her...the safer he is.”

I can tell that when he says ‘we’ he means him. He backed the wrong horse, too.

“What exactly do we know about her?” I lean in to him, propping on my elbows. I need to know. I need to know if everything Snow said was true. 

“We know she planned mass executions. That she intended to install herself as president and see her plans out before anyone had a chance to vote on them. We know that she intended to create population factories, basically housing women as slaves who would work entirely to create the newest generation of Panem. We know that the boats she deployed to 13 were being armed with their nuclear weapons and meant to fire on anyone who questioned her methods of rebuilding.....”

Snow was right. She was just as reprehensible as he was. And I can tell that this information disgusts Plutarch who feels as blinded as I have been and maybe...just maybe...deserves my trust.

“And Finnick.”

Really it’s the only thing I need him to help me sort out. She’s dead now so the rest of her mess doesn’t concern me. 

He folds his hands and he’s searching for words. I study his face to mark any changes that tell me he’s hiding something. But I don’t see them.

“Here’s what I know. We think that it didn’t take Finnick long to figure out what was going on. That being a fan favorite, especially in Four, he was able to comandere the ship he was on. Thwart that mission. Rally the people to support him. That’s the good news.”

I rock forward until the table is practically bruising my ribs.

“And the bad news?”

He sighs heavily but looks me square in the eyes. Here it comes.

“The other ship arrived in thirteen. Finnick’s didn’t. Now...this can mean any number of things....”

And I know what one of them is. My heart feels tight. Like...it’s stinging. So hard that I grab it.

“Stay with me Katniss. Here’s what else we know. We lost contact with that ship because Coin’s only real operative on there...her only contact...pulled all of their navigation. He lost control of his ship so he left them with no way to contact us, and we have no way to contact them. But the crew of the ship that made it was flown here yesterday....they will be very helpful in getting us close to where they wound up. And if you were gonna put money on someone from Panem surviving at sea...I don’t know about you, but I think it’s Finnick Odair.”

He’s not wrong. I’m still holding my shirt on my chest. It’s only been ten days. Finnick could survive the sea. It’s the other men that concern me. 

“So what do we do now?” I ask. Knowing that I am powerless to do anything.

“So our military forces are being realigned under the leadership of Lyme, she was a victor from District 2 and a good friend to Finnick. She’s put a crew together to go out in the next few days, as soon as she feels like we can spare the manpower, because she wants him alive and on her team here.”

Lyme. My new best friend.

“Ok.” I nod, still shaking off the fear.

“Once he’s back. We hold an election. We set you free. We start over. So...just hang in there...a little while longer. Ok?”

I nod again. He said...once he’s back...not if. Once.

Plutarch stands to leave and I stand as well.

“Can I see Haymitch?” I ask nervously, wondering if he could be swayed faster than the guards. But I can tell immediately that the answer is no. 

“I’m afraid not. He’s...you know, all eyes are on you and the way this new regime is going to lead. We have to be careful.”

His voice is flat and his face changed. He’s lying to me. But why? And about what?

He nods and knocks on the door to be let out. The door opens and closes in one fluid movement and I’m alone again. I look at my food but despite knowing better I can’t eat it. I slump back in my chair. My chest rises and falls with a shudder. I try to tell myself that wherever he is he’s ok. That he isn’t hurt. He isn’t starving. He isn’t....

I can’t think past that without fighting for air myself. So all I can do now it sit in this box. Alone. And hope everyone time that door slides open...it’ll be him.


	15. Chapter 15

** Day 55. **

I’ve stopped getting out of bed. I only eat when they stay here and force me to. Ten more days and no word from the guards. In fact they have stopped talking to me much at all which I assume is because they have news they don’t want me to hear. No return visit from Plutarch. No word on Haymitch.

I have descended into something dark and unmanageable. 

It’s lunch. The door slides open. The guard nters. He has started bringing me vitamins because I won’t eat and often times if I do eat I can’t keep it down. I sit up. He makes me drink. Tells me he will leave if I eat two bites of bread.

“Hey. You gotta stay strong, ok? We need you to make it through this.”

He kneels in front of my bed and gives me a chunk of bread. I try to make myself eat it. 

“Any word?” I ask him dryly for the first time in days, but I can see the same answer wash over him before he shakes his head no. I spit the bread back out. Right into the floor. He picks it up and leaves. I lay back into the bed. I think I’m trying to starve myself to death and I lose myself thinking about how long that would take. I start weeping, and fall into a fitful sleep.

I welcome sleep. Because now my nightmares are broken with occasional dreams about Finnick. And I miss his face. I miss his touch. His smell. I don’t want to wait for him anymore. I need this to be over. I want to just...sleep. 

I can almost feel him. See him. Hear him.

“Katniss...”

He’s calling my name and it’s close.

“Katniss...wake up.....”

My eyes flutter and he’s in front of me. I can’t focus. It’s blurry and filled with sleep and I know I’m still dreaming.

Am I still dreaming? I reach a weak hand out and touch the side of his face. It’s different. But it’s Finnick. My eyes fly open. I’m weak but I roll off the edge of the bed, landing in his arms.

“Finnick....”

He catches me and lifts me all at once, standing with me wrapped around his waist and I’m pushing into him, repeating his name over and over and over until it’s just letters and sounds. I’m sobbing. I can feel his chest pounding and his arms are on my back, pulling me into him. He back steps until he hits the table and falls down onto it. I want to look at him but in my half awake state I’m too afraid to let go. I’m afraid I’ll wake up.

“I told you I’d find you.” He whispers and I unleash. A wailing sob into his shoulders of all the emotion I haven’t let myself feel. Losing him, killing Snow, this isolation. I repeat his name over and over, finally sure I’m awake. I lean back and take his face in my hands. He pushes towards me and closes his mouth over mine. I kiss him furiously, crying...calling for him...smiling...feeling his tongue in my mouth like he has missed the way I taste. His arms move over my back, keeping me close until I finally have to come up for air. Pressing my forehead to his and holding his face in my hands.

“Finnick....”

“I’m here.” He smiles. I feel my heart skip a literal beat. I thumb over his cheeks and let myself smile at it. I can feel his dimples as he smiles back at me but I can’t see them. They are tucked neatly behind the weeks of growth on his face. It ages him. It distinguishes him. And other than concealing his pink cheeks, I approve of it. I notice how dark he is. How blonde his hair looks. The sun. I immediately want to ask him where and how he has been. What has happened. To tell him what he has missed. But I am hopeful we will have time for this later.

“Are you ok?” He whispers, his voice quivering.

“Yes,” I answer, “are you?” 

He nods.

“I am now. Look, we are getting you out of here. I told Lyme it happens today. You and Haymitch. If people don’t like it they can go through me....”

“I killed him.”

I know he already knows but it feels like a confession when I tell him about Snow, and I also know he understands the complexity of it. He kisses me softly. 

“I know. I know you did.”

He pulls me into the embrace I have been needing since leaving Snow’s corpse. I feel myself relax in a way I haven’t in weeks.

“She’s called an emergency meeting. People she’s been in contact with throughout the takeover. People we can trust. Lyme is good people. She’s one of us. Mags...she...Mags really liked her. She wants you out of here, too.”

“Plutarch? Is he in this meeting? Is he in control?” I ask trying to wrap my mind around who is even left. 

“Yes. She trusts him. A few other rebel soldiers. A few Victor’s from other districts that managed to survive and lead uprisings....”

He’s uneasy. I slip off of his lap and stand in front of him, trying to read his face. But when I stare at him I lose my train of thought. He’s here. He found me. Like he promised.

I lean in to him and kiss him gently, as he pulls at the belt of my jumpsuit, closing me against his chest.

“Finnick?” 

He looks up at the sound of his name.

“Before we were rescued from Seven. You wanted to ask me something...” he smiles as I recall that moment, I wonder if he assumed I would forget. He takes my chin with his hand, his thumb rubbing over my skin.

“You loved Peeta. Real or not real?”

Of all the questions, Finnick Odair, this is the one you chose. A mystery. I’m still holding his face as he holds mine.

“Real,” I answer him lowly unsure but unwilling to wait on the next part, “but not like I love you.”

He raises his hands over my face, his thumb traces the still-present bump and scar between my brows. 

“I love you.” he whispers and I melt into him. 

The door slides open and we both turn to see the guard.

“Commander Lyme is waiting.”

I grab him. Too tight. Instinctively.

“Please don’t go...” I beg him like a child, knowing he has to. He strokes my forehead again.

“I promise I’ll be back. Tonight. You won’t spend another night here.”He gently eases me from his lap, and we stand, fingers untwined. He traces his free hand over my waist.

“You need to eat.”

I’ve probably lost ten pounds since he saw me last and I know he’s right. He kisses my forehead and slips out, turning to smile at me uneasily as he does.

“I promise. I’ll be back.”

The door slips closed and I rush to it. Placing my hands on the place he just was, still afraid it’s not real. I move back to my bed and sit there. I stare at the table. 

Please don’t be sleeping Katniss. 

Hours pass. Nothing. I’m even sure it’s time for dinner and still...nothing. Until finally I hear the click of the code being entered and the door slipping open. I sit quickly. Breathlessly. 

It’s not Finnick.

It’s the guards. Both of them. 

“They’re ready for you, Katniss.”

Ready for me? Ready for what? I follow them into the hallway where I see two other guards flanking...Haymitch. If I’ve lost ten pounds, he has lost twenty. It looks like his skin is hanging from his frame. His hair is straggly and sticking out from under a stocking cap. He shivers.

“Haymitch??”

He turns to see me.

“Hey sweetheart. You ready for judgement day?”

“What happened? You look....”

“Like hell. I know. Apparently they don’t serve booze in prison, and detox is a real fucking bitch.”

He tries to smile so I match it, but it’s making me twist inside to him like this, a shell of himself.

“What do you think they will do....” I whisper to him as our guards let us walk beside each other. He shrugs.

“Finnick is in there. I can’t imagine he will let anything bad happen to us. Well, you, mostly. But I’m hoping for the best.”

He winks at me and I try to force a smile as the guards open massive double doors.

Inside is a room bigger than any I have ever seen. A giant round table that used to house dozens of men and now hosts just a handful. Large, lit, chandeliers. Wallpaper more intricate than most dresses I’ve seen. I’m trying to focus on the group assembled in the midst of its gaudiness. 

Finnick. He stands across the room at what I can tell must be the head of this table, if it were to have one. He’s wearing a grey jumpsuit now, as are the rest of us. Just to his left it a tall blonde woman. The only other person at the table who stands so I assume that this is Commander Lyme. Plutarch is at the table. And several other people I don’t recognize. A few of them smile at Haymitch and I assume they are Victors. Several of them whisper while looking at him and I know they are as unnerved by his appearance as I am. Finnick stands dutifully. I catch him looking at me but then looking away. I can’t read his face anymore than I can read the temperature of the room.

“Katniss Everdeen.Haymitch Abernathy. We asked you here today as our newly forming governing democracy of Panem has been faced with, as its first task, determining your paths moving forward from the unfortunate events of the past month. But everyone in this room knows that these unfortunate events have been longer than a month. Our lives have been destroyed, manipulated and bargained with for too long. We have been emancipated from the rules of not one, but two potential threats and for that we are grateful....”

Her voice is stern but calm. Intelligent but forgiving. And she is looking at us with care in her eyes. Finnick is looking at me now, too. But neither of us smile. 

“...we are grateful that you were able to survive. We are grateful that you put your own lives and the lives of your families at risk to save the integrity of our nation. And for that we will be in your debt. As a council we have decided that, while the rules of former government might mandate your punishment or extradition, this is a new world and we owe that new world to you. I move to eradicate any mandated punishments for your actions, and declare you not only innocent of your crimes but heroes to all of Panem.”

She smiles slightly at her last sentence and I feel like the air leaves the room. I lock eyes with Finnick and he winks at me knowingly, a slight smile on his face.

“Commander Odair will be working with our council on assignments and living arrangements for both of you. You are invited, as all victors, but not required to enter into prestigious roles in our new democracy...or to live out your days in the place of your choosing with the blessing and protection of our government.”

Commander Odair. This is new. He hangs his head slightly at it and I wonder if he likes it any more than I do.

“Thank you.” Haymitch speaks freely and several of the people seated come to greet him. Offering hugs and encouragement, surrounding him. It makes me smile to see the family that I didn’t realize he had. 

I can’t bring myself to talk yet, I’m just watching Finnick across the room as if I’m waiting for a sign. Lyme is whispering to him and he nods slightly, looking at me. He whispers back to her and she does the same...smiling at me. I see her part from him and walk in my direction. Not him. Her.

As she reaches me, she extends a hand.

“It’s an honor to meet you, Katniss.” She is tall and formidable and I’m not sure what to say as she continues, “I’m sorry for everything you’ve been through. Just know you aren’t alone. And whatever you decide...wherever you go...you’ll have my full support and respect.”

“Thank you....” I whisper. The room is buzzing now. Other people that I don’t know stop and introduce themselves. They talk to me like I’m a celebrity. Congratulating me. Thanking me. Expressing condolences. It’s all well meaning but I’m searching the room for Finnick. I turn and look through the crowd to see him trying to make his way to me through a similar throng of well wishers. I see him finally break free and I move towards him, desperate to get out of this room and away from these people. 

I want to run to him, suddenly unbothered by what anyone else thinks of what I say or do. It’s a new and welcomed feeling. 

But something stops me. He’s walking towards me with someone in tow. A small frame I can only barely make out trails behind him but I see their fingers knotted up tightly in his. I stop slightly in my tracks, cocking my head slightly. He’s smiling but there is unease there. The same I saw coming from him this afternoon.

“Hey...” he’s trembling. Nervous. Unsure. This is not a Finnick Odair I know. And suddenly I am very aware why. The person he’s towing...her long auburn hair and suntanned skin, a slightly vacant but kind gaze.

“Katniss Everdeen....this is Annie Cresta.” 

I know he says her name but my ears are ringing so loud I can’t hear. How is this possible? How is she here? Am I still stuck in some kind of half sleep where things like this make sense? My knees come out from under me. 

Finnick is beneath me as quickly as it happens, bracing my back with his arm and pulling a chair from the table to rest me in. He sits me down lightly, kneels at my side and asks Annie to go for some water.

I’m staring at him like even though he’s next to me I’ve lost him. A million things to say and none will surface. He can see it all over me and I can tell he’s fighting to know what to say. His mouth quivers as he speaks, choking words out that I know he knows will hurt me.

“She was on the ship. Several of Four’s best swimmers took right to the water when the attacks started. They had a whole camp of refugees that Annie was looking out for. No one knew there were that many survivors. Any survivors. Katniss.......”

My eyes are glazing over. He’s telling me this story and he knows he’s breaking my heart. Hours ago he said he loved me. He should have told me then. Not bombard me with this here. 

She is back at his side with a pitcher of water, she pours a glass and gently hands it to me. Don’t hate her, Katniss, this isn’t her fault.

“I’m so sorry, I can’t imagine how exhausted you must be.”

Her voice is sweet and kind and pure. 

“Thank you. I can’t imagine how you two must feel. The world, such as it is, must have known you needed each other.”

Finnick’s face is flat as I speak. I see him biting his lip, his hands fidget. For a moment I allow myself to think of how this must feel for him. 

“Thank you. For saving him. I know you did that. I will never be able to repay you.”

Her eyes fill and she takes my hand, whispering her words to me. 

“Just take care of him. That’s how you can repay me.” I pat her hand slightly and I need to stand. I need air. I need...to not be standing with them as Annie wraps her arms around his waist and nuzzles into his unreactive body. I all but push past them, placing my glass on the table and try with my spinning head to find the door. I pass Haymitch and his face lets me know he’s seen the whole exchange. It’s a look of pity that is the final straw.

I burst into the hallway and realize I have nowhere to go. No room, no prison cell, no escape. I feel panic coming over me as my heart races and my breath becomes harder and harder to catch. I take off down the hallway hoping to find a door to the outside, leaning on the walls for support. 

I curse myself for killing Snow. I should have left him alive to kill me. He’s the only one I could count on to end the feeling I have in this moment.


	16. Chapter 16

My saving grace comes at the end of the hallway where two heavy and elegant French glass doors open to a massive marble veranda.

Over looking a rose garden.

I rush to the edge and gasp for air. Clinging to it with my hands. Gripping it as though I might fall off of it if I let go. I feel someone enter the balcony behind me and purse my lips and eyes.

“Heyyyyy.....” it’s Haymitch. He puts his hand on my shoulder as I struggle to catch my breath. To control myself. I know he knows.

I try to look at him but I can’t find words.

“He didn’t know, Katniss, none of us knew. There was a group of refugees hiding in the steerage of that boat and she was there. We assumed she went up with the rest of the District.”

I’m ashamed that I wish she we were dead. This beautiful girl that he loves so much and I’m sad that they found her alive. It makes me feel like a monster. 

“You love him.” He continues. I start crying as soon as I hear his words. I do. I do love him. I love him still. I nod slowly and Haymitch slides next to me looking out over the roses.

“I wish I had the right words here, sweetheart, but let me tell you something. I’ve known Finnick a long time. We haven’t always seen eye to eye. You know. With him always being so jealous of me. It’s embarrassing....sorry, anyway. The reason I trusted him in the Quarter Quell is when he loves, he loves hard. That’s why what Snow did to him was just...to take a kid like that....anyway. He would give up everything to help someone else. Doesn’t think of himself. He loved Mags like I’d never seen anyone love another person. He loves Annie. And he loves you. Don’t think for a second finding her changed that. That’s not how he works.”

I’m nodding along, flattered by his attempt to soothe me. He puts his arm around me and I lean into him. 

“Now. You can live it up here in paradise for a few days or forever. I think and I both know which it will be. But you need to start thinking about what you want the rest of your life to look like.”

I know what I want it to look like. Or...I knew.

Haymitch walks me through the mansion to my room. He wasn’t kidding. It’s a palace. Food arrives on trays several times throughout the evening. Women come in from time to time offering me changes of clothes. One runs a bath. I sit, feeling lost and out of place. 

Wondering where he is.

By 9:00 it’s clear he isn’t coming. I wrap myself in one of the robes they brought me and try to find some comfort in it. I lay in bed, not bothering to move the pillows into a Finnick sized pile behind me as it will no longer bring me comfort.

I’m almost asleep, unable to even cry any more, when I hear the slight knock at the door. It’s almost like whoever is knocking doesn’t want me to hear it. But I do. 

I rise, slowly tightening the belt on my robe, and walk slowly to the door. I open it just a crack.

Finnick.

I gaze at him through the small opening of the door. But for whatever reason, self preservation mostly, I don’t open it further.

“Can I come in?” He asks softly...pleading with me like he knows I’ll say no. I inhale a shaky breath.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea, Finnick. I’ll see you in the morning.” His eyes, sad and heavy, meet mine. He doesn’t argue. Just nods and grits his teeth.

“Alright then.”

He’s already turning away as I close the door and lean against it. Pressing my forehead into it and letting out a gentle, cleansing cry. 

Another knock.

“I can hear you. Open the door. Katniss. Please.”

I refuse to let him see me cry so I am desperately trying to clean my face and stop my hitching breath.

“I’ll stand here all night.”

He’s calling to me through the door and finally I open it. Trying my best to look composed.

“I’m sorry...it’s just that...I was already in bed.”

I move from the door into my room and he follows, closing the door behind him.

“I didn’t mean to bother you.”

I turn to him and smile, telling myself to address him the way I would anyone else. Fake apathy. Throw him off my scent. 

“It’s not a bother. I just assumed you’d had a busy night. And that I’d see you tomorrow. I’m so happy for you, Finnick...” I’m trying so impossibly hard and my voice is starting to betray me as my throat gets thick with the urge to sob, “so happy. The two of you get a fresh start. It’s exactly what....it’s what....I’m so happy for you.”

He’s closing the space between us even as I back from him. He looks as sad and lost as I feel. 

“Katniss....” he reaches me and puts an arm around my waist. I grab it hard and toss him from me.

“No! Finnick. No. Don’t you do this to me. That night in the cabin when you wouldn’t sleep with me? Or even look at me? Because it made it too hard to have to say goodbye? Don’t you dare put me in the same position now.”

I’m shouting at him madly. A cry and a scream, sadness and anger, rage and embarrassment.

“I’m not saying goodbye....” he’s raising his voice now, too, but not to the levels that I have taken this. But I can’t look at him. I can’t feel the things I feel and then lose him anyway. Not again.

“Not yet. You will. And I understand. We were...it’s ok...we didn’t have anything else...now you have your life back...you don’t owe me anything....”

“Stop.”

“Just let me go, Finnick. Please. I don’t want it to be like this. I don’t want to hate you. I don’t want to hate Annie. Please. I need you to leave. Please.”

He’s looking at me like I’m speaking a language he doesn’t understand. I’m wounding him. But I watch his posture change as he decides to accept me.

“Alright. Tomorrow morning I meet with Lyme to come up with safety and protection plans for all the Victors. You need to decide where you want to go...”

He’s all business now. 

“I don’t know what’s left....”

I whisper to him. Unsure of the implications and not having any idea where I want to be. Nowhere. That’s my answer. Can you do that, Finnick? Make me disappear?

“There are safe pockets in most of the districts that are being rebuilt. You can go to 12, it just won’t be The Seam. Haymitch is returning to 12.”

“Ok.” That’s all I say. Ok, Finnick. No ‘I love you’ and no ‘stay with me’ just...ok.

He looks at me for a moment, a face full of regret, before nodding ‘ok’ to me and turning for the door. 

“Finnick...” I shout to him as his hand reaches the knob. He turns over his shoulder.

“Where will the two of you go?...” I ask out of genuine curiosity and the knowledge that it will hurt me no matter where it is. 

“Annie wants to stay here and care for the group of refugees she helped to escape. Some of them are orphaned children she was working with at the school.....”

Of course she does. Of course the girl he loves is as noble as he is. He doesn’t stop though.

“...I’ve taken a job at an outpost.”

He finishes his phrase and catches me off guard. Annie is staying and...he is leaving? 

“I...I don’t understand....” he turns to face me and is walking towards me. I don’t counter this time.

“Yeah...,” he starts, “there’s this remote outpost in District 7. Great place to monitor the shore of that western coast. Nothing much, you know, a loft...a beach...surrounded by itchweed though....have to do something about that.” 

He’s reached me and his hand moves carefully to brush a tear from my cheek as he talks, smiling slightly. 

“I don’t know what to say....”

I truly don’t. 

“Say you’ll come with me...”

I don’t say anything but I let myself fall into his body, crashing my head against his chest and inhaling him deeply.

“Of course I’ll come with you. Of course...”

I can feel his fingers fumbling between us at the belt of my robe and suddenly the only thing in the world I want more than to return to our cabin is for him to finish what we started there...

Right. Now.


	17. Chapter 17

Finnick’s fingers are trembling at the silk rope on my bathrobe and it all once charms and alarms me. If we have figured out how to balance the weight of each other in intense situations, I have to admit than in this one I was counting on him to carry that burden. I can make just about anything awkward and I’m already panicking at the idea of standing naked in front of him. I haven’t been naked in front of another human since I could brush my own hair and teeth.

“Better at tying them than untying them?” I whisper coyly as I grab the tie from his hands and help, thinking it’s easier maybe from my vantage point. He smiles, still looking down at it.

“That’s fair. So from now on, I’ll tie...you untie?”

I think I’m getting the better of this deal. I smile back at him and I can feel my cheeks flush as it comes undone. He dips his hand into the fold on the fabric and finds my bare hip in his hand. I immediately feel my skin break in goosebumps under his touch. His other hand finds my other hip and his hold on me starts to make my robe fall open. I feel the cool air on my skin and I can’t stop looking at him, reading his face as he takes me in.

He whispers my name and pulls the robe open, his thumbs gliding over my hipbones...hands moving slowly to my waist, pulling me gently towards him. I gasp against my will and then exhale so deeply into him my chest aches. I reach for his neck and start tugging at the zipper on his jumpsuit....slowly undressing him because it only seems fair. He takes his hands from my waist long enough to free his arms and step from it...using his feet to push his boots off. He reaches for my shoulders and eases my robe off until it falls into a neat pool behind me. I let my shaky arms find rest on his shoulders. Hands linking behind his neck, pulling him into me.

He was naked under his suit so I’m pulling him towards me and feeling my entire frame heat at his naked skin on mine. I’ve wanted to feel him this way for so long. With literally nothing between us. He pushes his mouth gently to mine, kissing my lips, dipping his tongue into my mouth to taste me...moaning against me until I feel like I might buckle. His hands are moving up my sides till the find my ribs. He pulls from me. He shoots me a disapproving look.

“Maybe we should stop and get some dinner instead.”

His fingers are tracing my ribs and I know he’s noticed the normal curve of my hips has changed. I want to tell him I really couldn’t eat since he left. 

“How about we make it breakfast instead?”

He smirks at me and closes his mouth on mine again. I’m so lost in the wetness of his mouth, probing him lazily with my tongue, that I don’t notice he’s moving his hands slowly until one is clamped firmly between my thighs and I let a yelp escape into his mouth. He closes his palm over me, pushing the heel of his hand into my unbearably sensitive spot and his fingers are closed tightly over my opening. I can feel myself wetting his hand. I feel like I have no control over what my body is doing. I start gently rocking my hips against his palm and he pushes back hard....

“That’s it...move...until it feels good....”

He’s purring into my neck, kissing and sucking on my flesh.

“It all feels good” I manage to say, breathlessly. I moan and try to control my movements and sounds, but even though this is all new to me, it’s like my body knows what to do. He’s wrapped his arm around my back and is taking more and more of my slight weight as I all but collapse into his hand, riding it as he pushes against me hard. Suddenly there’s pressure: he’s inside me. His finger pushes gently against my dripping wet opening and then finds it’s way all the way inside of me. I cry out for him as he starts to move it, gently, deep inside. I continue to buck, even wilder now, and he’s pushing another finger inside. I hiss a little bit at the full feeling and my body wants to double over. I fold into him and his fingers start moving methodically in and out of me. I’m so wet I can hear every push and pull. He adjusts his hand, his fingers inside me and suddenly his thumb is drawing soaking wet, lazy circles on the spot that is shooting electricity down into my legs.

“Oh my God...Finnick....”

Something is happening. His touch. His breath on my neck. He chest pressed against mine and his hand working furiously between my legs. I grab the back of his hair and he growls...pushing his fingers deeper into me than I assumed the could go. I feel my toes losing contact with the floor as my legs start to tremble and shake. I’ve lost control of my muscles and he is slowly lifting me off the floor with his hand in my crotch and he leans back to look at me, biting his lip so hard it must hurt.

“You’re so beautiful,” I’ve never felt it but when he looks at me...and says it...I do....and his voice puts me over the edge, “I love you....so much....”

I want to say it back to him but I can’t find words. Sounds, yes, but not words. I let out a guttural combination of moan and a sigh and every muscle in my body tightens. His thumb is gliding so quickly over the tiny piece of flesh it’s been assaulting and suddenly it’s electric. I grab for his hand like I can’t stand another second of it but he refuses to move it. My insides catch fire and soak his hand all at once. The intensity and tightening of it all threaten to knock me out. I’m trying to hard to look at him but my head falls back and I cry out loud for him, rocking into his hand so hard I’m not sure how he’s holding me. I’m flailing in his arms like I’m releasing every single feeling I’ve had for two years into his hand. It pulses and aches and throbs and....I don’t want it to stop. 

I feel myself start to slow on him, still twitching and aching as I fall into his upper body, my head on his shoulder, realizing that I have broken into a complete sweat. What just happened? 

He pulls his hand from between my legs and I shudder from the cold on my soaking wet skin, but he’s lifting me up, folding my legs around his waist. The feel of my sensitive skin on his taut stomach is almost too much but I push against him anyway. He walks us to the bed and rests me on it. I’m grateful for the chance to catch even a little bit of my breath. I lean back trying to support my weight on my hands, my hair stuck to me with sweat. 

But I don’t feel vulnerable. I feel powerful. Sexy. And I am face to face with evidence of how badly he wants me. It’s exhilarating. 

He’s inches from my face when he reaches his hand, still shiny and slick from being inside me, and wraps it around himself. I bite my lip, wondering what he calls it. Because whatever it is...especially watching him expertly maneuver it...it’s something I feel like I could watch forever. My legs are spread below us and without thinking about it I take my hand back to myself and slowly strum the hard and still throbbing button of flesh, using my fingers the way he just had. He notices and I see how much it excites him. He’s pushing his hips into his hand. Alternating between watching me and laying his head back to stare at the ceiling as he strokes his body so effortlessly. His eyes fall back between my legs and as if on cue I take a finger and slip it inside the way he did. 

“Mmmmmm....Katniss....” turning him on is working me up like I could never have imagined and suddenly I’m pushing and pulling my finger from myself like I have imagined him doing. Biting my lip, rocking my hips, loving his eyes on me. He leans his head back again and I’ve lost all sense of worrying about what I should and shouldn’t do or say....which is brand new to me, too.

“Finnick....,” I look up at him shyly, which is ironic because I’m literally laying naked in front of him fingering myself, “what do you call it...” He slows his pace as he listens to me talk and then thinks over my question...smiling a smile that’s pure sex as he continues to work his hand lazily, twisting and pulling. He answer comes in short, bated breath.

“I...I don’t know...I guess I don’t call it....anything? My....my cock...I guess?” He’s half erotic and half schoolboy, and I can tell I’ve made him slightly embarrassed by the pink flush of his cheeks. So I regain control of him...feeling a complete power even amidst all the newness.

“Ok then. I want your cock in my mouth....” I whisper and I can tell he can’t believe I’ve said it. But I don’t give him time to respond.

My fingers are deep inside me and I close my mouth over the salty tip of him, moaning at his taste. His hands find the sides of my face and grab little bunches of hair as he hisses. I gradually move my mouth on and off of him, trying to gauge how much more I can take. I reach up and take him in my hand as well, using my hand and mouth to cover his entirety. I’m sucking hard, rolling my tongue around the tip, the ridge that separates it from the long length of him, pushing my tongue into it’s small opening, sucking and gripping him like I’m desperate for him inside me. Because I am. 

I’m so lost in the way he feels and moves and tastes...the sounds of his moans and breathlessness and my own, that I can’t hear him quietly ask me to stop. Until it’s too late....

“Katniss....no....” he’s tugging at the back of my head but I am so lost on the feel of him in the back of my throat that I can’t tell if he is pushing or pulling. And suddenly I’m choking on him. Not his flesh. But the warm milky substance I’m feeling fill my mouth and throat. I try to swallow but it’s too much. His hand is pulling at me and he pops free of my mouth but I don’t release my hand. I squeeze and pump him tirelessly...watching the steady stream leak from his tip and run over my fingers, lapping at him with my tongue as he rolls his hips, the muscles in his stomach tight and pulling. He is groaning and panting and I’m pulling on him like I need just one...last...drop.

I kiss him gently as he slows, still leaking slowly until I run my tongue over it and clean him. Swallowing what I can. He slowly lets his knees go out from under him until he’s kneeling in front of me, between my legs. In my excitement to taste his climax I pulled my fingers from my body and some point but I can still smell how hot I am for him.

He presses his head to my chest and fights to catch his breath.

“I’m....I’m sorry...”

He whispers against me. I’m basking in what was probably the single best experience of my life and he is....sorry? I lift his face to mine. He looks as spent and sweaty as I feel.

“Sorry?! Why??”

He’s blushing and shy. Struggling to look at me.

“I just...that was so fast...and I would never have done that....in your mouth...without...asking. And I didn’t want it...to end...like that....”

He seems uncomfortable all of the sudden and I don’t like it. 

“You forgive me?” He sounds sad, amlmost worried. He asks and maybe it’s just the fact that he is on his knees in front of me that this feels wrong. Him asking forgiveness for his....

His performance. It’s washes over me quickly now. This is what Finnick is made to do.

“Hey....,” I make him look at me even as he resists, “I would have been happy laying here all night watching you sleep. You don’t ever...EVER... have to do something that’s just for me. This is for you. Watching you...feel that way...on your own terms...”

He turns from me and almost moves like he wants to break from me entirely. I realize that maybe until this second he had no idea that I knew. That Haymitch had told me everything about his life as a Victor. And suddenly he’s a scared boy rom Four in a strange Capitol bedroom. I grab his arm as he move.

“Finnick. If you don’t tell me where and when it hurts....I can’t help you. Remember?” He turns to me. We stare at each other for a moment that lasts just a little too long. He takes the side of my face in his hand.

“This was...like...I dunno....I guess, my first time. My first real time.”

His words are hard to hear. But clear...and so honest. I close my hand over his on my cheek, turning to kiss his palm. 

“Mine, too. We can learn together how this is supposed to feel.”

He smiles at me before leaning in and kissing me softly, pressing me gently back into the bed as his body closes in on top of mine. He takes my fingers in his and holds them against the bed as we kiss. I feel him roll gently against my hip.

“It’ll just take me a minute....”

I can already feel him growing again, pressed to my side, so I am not worried.

“I love you, Finnick.” I whisper into his neck as he kisses mine, lowering his weight into me, his cock slowly growing against my hip bone when...

A knock at the door.

We both freeze. Hoping it will go away. He smiles down at me. 

Another knock. 

“Damnit” I whisper.

“Miss Everdeen if you can hear me, please open the door...there’s been an emergency.”

My eyes fly open and with no other words or time wasted, Finnick has rolled off of me and found his feet. We are clumsily trying to get dressed when they call through the door again....

“Miss Everdeen, it’s Haymitch. There’s an emergency with Haymitch.”

My heart stops.


	18. Chapter 18

I hastily throw my robe on and run for the door in bare feet. Finnick tells me to go and he will catch up as he is working on his boots. I barely notice the guard noticing Finnick in my room as I fling the door open.

“What’s happening?” I ask as soon as I have his eye contact.

“You need to come with me...”

I glance back at Finnick.

“Go. I’ll find you.”

He’s furiously tying his boot. I follow the guard down the hall towards Haymitch’s room. I see people moving in and out of the door. Almost like...a prep team?

No. Doctors. Medical. I look through the gathered chaos and spy Lyme, being a head taller than most of them, talking to a few people holding clipboards. It looks intense. But no Haymitch. She sees me coming and excuses herself, making her way towards me. Her hand in a fist over her mouth. 

“Thank you.” She mentions to and then dismisses the guard. She takes me gently by the arm and pulls me into a quiet alcove in the hallway. She can read the panic on my face.

“Where is he? What’s going on?”

Lyme is searching for the words and I want to scream at her to just tell me.

“Katniss, we think that Haymitch may have suffered a heart attack. A severe heart attack.”

“What....” I glance down the hall. I need to see him. She puts her arms gently on mine just as I see Finnick. I call for him and he moves towards us quickly, excusing himself past others in the hall.

“What’s happening...” he asks, echoing my impatience.

“Haymitch....” is all I can get out before my words fail. Lyme dutifully takes over, explaining the severity of the situation to the man she now regards as her second in command.

“The doctors think it was a massive heart attack. Brought on my the years of alcohol abuse, there is significant irreversible heart damage and disease. They are also seeing signs of undetected liver failure. The sudden detox may have had a negative impact on his heart function. We didn’t know.”

I watch Finnick clench and unclench his jaw as she speaks. He nods. I’m numb.

“What are the doctors saying?” He manages to ask. She simply nods a slow no.

“What are they saying....” he asks her again and I take his hand as I can sense his temper flaring. She glances at me as if she wishes I weren’t there to hear it. I wish that, too.

“They say he doesn’t have much time. That he’s being kept on blood pumpers right now and that pulling him from them....he won’t survive.”

Finnick squeezes my hand hard before turning to me. Lyme looks to me as well. 

“I’m so sorry Katniss. He asked to see you.” She mutters.

I’m choking back a sob but my breath is already coming out of me like I’m crying even if I can’t. 

“I’ll take her.” Finnick suggests. Placing his hand on my lower back and guiding me on shaking feet down the hall. He looks over at me but says nothing. There are doctors leaving as we round the door. They’ve converted his sleeping quarters into a makeshift hospital room. We hear a nurse whisper that they found him when they brought dinner. They look at us apologetically. Finnick has my arm but he releases it. We stand staring at Haymitch. This former giant of a man, withering into a hospital bed. IVs...oxygen. Like how Finnick looked but I knew Finnick was strong enough to fight. Haymitch has destroyed his body. Correction. This world destroyed his body.

“You should go. I’ll be right over here...” Finnick nods to a chair by the door, and moves to sit in it. Leaving me standing alone...staring at this man who is one half of the family I have left. I move beside him and sit on a stool that’s there. I gently take his hand in mine. 

He opens his eyes and smiles at me.

“Hey, sweetheart. You came.”

“Of course I came.”

“I dunno, you don’t like being told what to do....”

His voice is pained, it’s taking great effort for him to speak and he is still trying to be charming.

“Katniss I need you to know something and believe me I know my timing is shitty. And I’m sorry for that...” He’s turned to me in his bed, his eyes staring as he speaks cautiously.

“Look, I never got to have my own kids to fuck up. And that’s a good thing. But let me tell you something. If I had, I would have wanted one just like you. You’re the closest thing to a daughter I ever had. And I’m so damn proud of you. So proud.”

There are tears escaping his eyes and I clench his hand so hard I’m afraid I’m hurting him.

“Haymitch....”

“Look, sweetheart, I’m not afraid to die. Way I see it is I’ve been to hell already so what’s the worst that can happen, right?”

He winks at me and then coughs. I try to smile at him but the tears are falling from my eyes now.

“I was afraid to leave you alone. But I know now you’re not alone. That guy over there he’s the real deal. And I know he’s gonna have your back from now on. Get him for me would ya...”

Haymitch is fighting the urge to sleep I can tell, and his voice...usually booming..isn’t loud enough to call for Finnick himself. I turn over my shoulder and see him wringing his hands between his knees. 

“Finnick....” I call to him and he is quick to respond, lifting his head and straightening up. I swivel my head to let him know we need him and he walks slowly, taking a knee next to me and putting his hand on my knee as Haymitch gives him a once over and smiles.

“God you really are hard to look at you know, if I’m gonna leave you here to take care of this girl you better at least try to catch up. And do something about that beard. Try to look respectable. Haircut maybe.”

We all chuckle sadly, even in this state Haymitch can’t resist giving Finnick a hard time. He lifts a hand and holds it, resting his elbow on the bed. Finnick takes it. In a hand hold that’s more solidarity than anything. His face changes and he’s stern. 

“Lyme’s trying time be a superhero. Thinks she could find me a new liver. I told her I don’t want any of that....” 

“Haymitch if she can help you you need to fight....” I interrupt him and he is quick to stop me.

“Sweetheart I’m talking to Finnick. Thank you. I’m not putting this on you,” he turns back to him, “I don’t want any of that. I’m telling you. In case I can’t say it for myself. When I go I go. And I want to go in 12.”

Finnick is quiet for a moment. I can tell he likes this as little as I do and I’m waiting for him to talk Haymitch out of it but I know him better. He just nods quietly after a moment. 

“Ok.”

“You promise me? And don’t let her have any say in it.” He sneers at me with a wink but I know he’s protecting me. They both are. Making a decision that they don’t want me burdened with. And they are right. I would make him fight it. 

“I’m done fighting, sweetheart. I’m tired,” it’s like he can read my mind and I’m crying now as he lets go of Finnick’s hand and takes mine, “and you should be too. We got you this far and now you just need to...live. Not survive. Actually live.”

He takes my hand and kisses it before turning back to Finnick.

“I’ll take care of her.” Finnick whispers, blinking back tears he won’t let Haymitch see.

“Nah, you take care of each other now,” Haymitch is tired and we can both tell he needs to rest, but he leans in to me, “hey sweetheart. My top drawer over there. There’s some things. A letter on top. Grab it for me...”

I wipe my face and walk towards his tall dresser. I open the top drawer and he hasn’t put much of anything in it. A few small boxes. A shirt or two. An old flask. 

And an envelope with Finnick’s name on it. I lift it and turn, holding it up for him, he nods.

I carry it back to the bed and hand it to Haymitch, my hands shaking. I don’t recognize the handwriting but I can tell right away that Finnick does. Haymitch notices. He’s been trying to not let Haymitch see him cry, but now he’s rocked back on his knee, covering his forehead with a palm and not wanting to look at either of us.

“Hey. Look here.” Haymitch orders him and there is no question in his voice. So Finnick does. Still struggling hard to control his emotions. I want to touch him, or hold him, but I don’t know if it would help or hurt.

“If Katniss is like a daughter to me, you were like a son to her. You were never just our tributes. You were our kids,” Haymitch is speaking to him a a voice I’m not sure I’ve ever heard come from his usually sarcastic mouth...and I know who they are talking about.

Mags.

“She gave this to me the night before the Quell. She knew she wasn’t coming out. And she knew you would. She did exactly what she needed to do. And she would be so fucking proud of what you’ve done to honor her since. Here...you read it whenever you’re ready.”

He hands the letter to Finnick who is crying into his hand now. He takes it gingerly and I put my hand on his back.

We both notice that Haymitch has drifted peacefully to sleep, so we stand quietly. I lean over to kiss his forehead. He’s cooler than he should be.

“Thank you. For saving me.” I whisper gently against his clammy skin.

“You did that. I love you, sweetheart. Get outta here would ya...”

I laugh slightly. Wipe my face. Take a good look at him. Try to remember the way he was and then turn into Finnick. I’m aware that there are other people in the room and I don’t know where anyone stands so I resist the urge to fall into his arms. He does the same, stoically eyeing me as we turn to exit the room. 

Lyme meets us in the hall. 

“Did you convince him?” She asks Finnick and I. I wish I could tell her yes. Finnick clears his throat.

“No, he convinced me. We put all our efforts into getting him to 12. Equip the hover to take him like he is if we have to. It’s what he wants. I would do the same for you.”

Finnick is speaking to her like the Commander she made him and I realize that Haymitch trusted the right one of us to carry out his wishes. Lyme smiles knowingly...another victor who has known more than her fair share of suffering. She nods. We continue walking away from her.

“You alright?” He asks me, our backs to everyone. I nod slightly, but I shrug as well. He knows I’m not. We get to my room and I can tell he’s weighing the decision to come in. He looks down the hall and sees Lyme. Still watching us. She seems to smile at him, acknowledging what we are leaving unsaid, and he turns back to me.

“I can stay here with you. If that would help.” 

I can’t find the words so I nod and mouth the word yes. Because what I want to do is beg him to stay, tell him I can’t be alone, run back and check on Haymitch.

He reaches past me, opens the door and eases me through it. Shutting it behind us and resting his forehead on it as it latches.

Suddenly we are two kids from the districts. Two sad tributes who just lost their parents.


	19. Chapter 19

** Day 56. **

I wake in the middle of the night. Finnick is curled tightly into a ball at my side. Both of us naked and wrapped in just each other...on top of the thick velvety comforter. His head on my chest. We slept naked, exhausted, but aside from the gentle kiss he placed on my head as we fell into bed, there was no sex or intimacy that would have voided out the sadness we were feeling...so we took each other in our arms and tried to find sleep. I found it quickly. As I lie awake now, in the middle of the night, I realize that he was not as lucky.

I notice a few glasses of water on the bedside table that hadn’t been there when we fell asleep. And next to the glasses, his letter from Mags. The envelope has been opened. The letter laid folded neatly beside it. 

I’m pretty sure I toss and turn for an hour or two debating whether or not I should read it. I convince myself he wouldn’t mind. I wonder if I should ask him and risk never seeing it. But there are two things I know to be true:

Mags knew Finnick better than anyone.

And nothing wakes Finnick Odair from a deep sleep.

I slowly roll from the bed and find my robe, watching him fast asleep...not troubled at all by my leaving the space next to him. Good.

I wander around for several minutes because I want to make sure he is still fast asleep. I don’t love the feeling of sneaking around behind him or being nosy but the fact remains there is no one else in the world left to give me insight into this boy I have let myself fall completely in love with. I’ll never meet his parents...never be regaled by stories of his youth. And he will never meet mine. It’s a harsh reality.

But I’m an open book. He said it the day he met me. There isn’t much about me that Finnick doesn’t know already, right down to Gale, thanks to the constant Capitol coverage. But he...is a mystery. And I want to see him...how Mags saw him. I round the bed and lift the letter carefully from the table. I open it. It’s long. In tiny meticulous handwriting that looks like print. Written by the same hands that could meticulously tie beautiful bait. I smile at a small drawing of two people standing by the sea. One is floating.

I sit down painfully slowly on the edge of the bed, careful not to wake him. He doesn’t even stir.

** My dearest, sweetest, Finnick: **

** How do I start a letter like this knowing that when you’re reading it, I’ll be far from you. And having no idea what the rest of your world might look like.  **

** There are certain things I need to make sure you know. And I’m sorry for saying them in this way. While I think I have a million things to say we both know I’m not good with words, so here are five. **

** One. Whatever happened to me in the arena I know that you will blame yourself. Don’t. I also know that you would have done everything you could for me, and I hope it didn’t cost you. I did what I came to do. Stay with you as long as I could and help that girl we don’t know. Because she reminds me so very much of you. And she deserved the both of us.  **

** Two. If you are reading this it means that we succeeded. And that means you, my love, are free. Which is all I ever wanted. So take that and do with it what you’ve dreamed.  **

** Three. And you may not care much for this part. You’ve protected Annie. Just like you protected me. In this world there will be others to care for her, you need to follow your heart not out of obligation, but out of love. Love for yourself, love for your life, and just maybe someday love for someone like you someday. You deserve that. Annie loves you and she knows.  **

** Four. What the Capitol did to you, that was and never will be your weight to bear. Hold no blame or regret or shame. It is not who you are. You never were. You never will be. And God willing you are reading this knowing that you will never have to do anything they ask of you again. My one regret in this life is not standing up for you or finding a way to fight them for you. But I couldn’t risk losing you altogether. Just know that the boy inside of you is someone those people will never know. That your beautiful insides far outweighed your beautiful outsides. But someday someone will find you in there. Lots of someones will. And they will be the only ones that matter. **

** Five. Wherever you go in this world and whatever you do, I’ve always been proud to call you mine. You are my boy. My sweet boy. And I will always, always, be beside you in the sand. You just won’t see my footprints. You’ll have to feel them now instead. **

** I love you with my whole heart. Thank you for making a life that could have been horrible into something absolutely wonderful. **

** With all my heart. **

** Your Mags **

My heart aches. For her. For him. I smile remembering meeting her. How in those moments in the training center she was proud of me. My bravery. When she was the one who gave her life without question. I still see her in my dreams. Disappearing into the fog and not even being afraid. I think of Haymitch telling me he’s not afraid to die. Did Mags feel the same way? She knew he would never leave her behind. Just like I know now. So she didn’t make him.

It explains why he is as strong as he is. 

I feel a shift in the bed behind me and I quickly fold it and wipe my face.

“It’s ok.” He whispers, obviously knowing I’ve read it. I immediately wonder how long he has been awake. 

“I’m sorry. I just...wanted to know her.”

I’m absentmindedly playing with my robe and wiping more escaping tears from my hot cheeks. 

“I’ll tell you all about her someday. Mags was the best.” His voice is groggy from his pillow and I wonder, since I woke him so easily, if he had really gotten much sleep at all. I turn on the bed, propping to face him. I smile and lean down, pushing some hair from his forehead.

“Hold on....”

I whisper to him, moving from the bed to the bathroom with a sudden mission. The sun is just barely starting to light the sky as I return. From behind my back I produce a bar of soap, a wash cloth, and a razor. 

He smiles sheepishly, still fighting off sleep.

“Let’s do it for Haymitch, huh? Let him see that pretty face he loves so much.” 

I’m trying to cheer us both up and I have to admit. It’s working.

He smiles and adjusts in the bed, pulling the blanket up around his waist. 

I move around the side of the bed and then ease into his lap. He adjusts to my weight and lays back so I can lean over him. He’s still grinning and full of sleep and it’s...well, it’s adorable and it takes my mind off of absolutely everything else.

“Do you find me hard to look at, too?” He recalls Haymitch’s words jokingly and I sneer at him as I soap his face and neck. He has to have some idea of how handsome he actually is, but sometimes I think it’s been lost in the shuffle of his trauma.

“I do not find you hard to look at, ever. But I do miss what’s hiding under all of this.” I smile gently and start to run the blade over his neck. Maybe it’s that he’s naked under me, of that my robe is slipping open as I straddle him...but suddenly this is act of sexual power and it’s making me feel heady. I move the razor up from his neck...over his jaw...his cheeks. His eyes are closed but every so often his mouth curves into a smile.

“Careful....” if he keeps doing that I will lose my balance and concentration all at once. 

“Sorry.” He whispers, trying not to move his lips.

I can feel him getting hard under me and he shifts. I can’t tell if it’s to hide it or encourage me with it, but I gently scoot to find him again. I grab the wet washcloth and wipe his face clean as I finish.He reaches up and runs his hands over his now-smooth chin before opening his eyes.

“Thanks....,” he whispers, running his hands over my exposed thighs, “haircut next?”

I lean over him, fully aware that my robe is not concealing me...at all.

“I’m not touching your hair,” I say as I grab a fistful of it, gently pulling his head back until his chin tilts up and he moans slightly, “I like it just the way it is.”

I’m poised to attack his neck with my mouth when there’s a knock at the door. I look to the window first. It’s barely light out.We both look at each other...realizing we have been interrupted by some outside force of nature more often than not.

“I’ll get it....” he whispers. Easing me off of him. I adjust my robe and fix the comforter which was mostly undisturbed as Finnick pulls his grey suit on over his half erection. I pretend not to notice.

He smooths his hair and makes his way to the door. He opens it just a crack at first and then wide enough that I can see Commander Lyme. Finnick slips out of the door and closes it behind him, leaving me alone. He didn’t manage to put his shoes on so I know he will be right back but still I am unsettled.

I grab for my jumpsuit and brush my teeth. Still nothing. 

I’m running a comb through my hair and pulling it back into a loose bun when Finnick reappears.

“What....”

His face is drawn. His brow furrowed. He leans his back against the door. 

“Finnick?”

It’s like he didn’t hear me at first so I move closer and he looks up at me. He is chewing the inside of is mouth which is always his tell. He moves from the door and meets me, taking my hands in his. 

“Katniss....God, I’m sorry,” he can’t find the words and I’m starting to feel like I know what they are....

“Haymitch....” I whisper, and I see him swallow hard. He nods vaguely. Almost groaning. He doesn’t want to say it out loud. Not to me.

“He didn’t wake up this morning. His doctors said he went peacefully in his sleep.” 

For some strange reason I don’t want to cry. I’m relieved. I’m confused but I’m relieved. He went peacefully in his sleep. All Victor’s should be so lucky. Rue wasn’t. Peeta wasn’t.

Finnick is squeezing my hands. I squeeze them back.

“I was supposed to get him to 12.”

I reach up and brush his cheek. Finnick has this supernatural ability to blame himself for everything.

“He knew, Finn,” I’m recalling the last words he said to me...get the hell outta here would ya... _so you don’t see me die,_ “he knew.”

I fold into his chest and he wraps me in his arms. We stand there for a long time and I do let tears come. A strange peaceful wash of them. Finnick rocks me gently from side to side almost like we are dancing and he occasionally kisses the top of my head, but we say nothing. I just...cry for my friend.

After a long while we decide to go see him. I’m hesitant at first. I’ve seen too many dead bodies in my life but I want to see him at peace. And he is. No machines and no medicine, no furrowed brow, no desperation for a drink. He looks at rest. Peaceful. Not fighting anymore. For himself...or for me. 

Finnick stands behind me the whole time. Dutifully there if I need him. After awhile I stand and he takes my hand. New. For him to do it where everyone can see. 

“We were lucky to have them.” He says, and it’s exactly what I needed. He is so right. For all that Haymitch was, he loved me fiercely.

We head to the main cabinet room where we were expected to meet for breakfast anyway. Finnick helps me to a seat, by Plutarch Heavensbee, and then makes a few rounds to have words with people I still don’t know. 

I see Annie enter. My heart feels sick. I don’t know who it’s for...me or her...maybe both of us. He notices her and crosses to her. I’m trying not to stare as they exchange words. She seems content if not happy. At one point she brushes his cheek and jealousy stings at me but I brush it off and pretend to listen to Plutarch. Finnick kisses her gently on the head and is interrupted by Lyme, who presents some papers and they look over them.

Annie is making her way around the table...to me. He expression pained. I stand to meet her unsure at al of what to say. She closes in on me with a hug...long and sincere....

“I just heard. I’m so sorry. Losing your mentor like that....”

“Thank you. He was more than a mentor, I’ll be pretty lost without him” I’m speaking candidly with her until I regret it immediately. I don’t need to tell her about being more than a mentor: Finnick was hers. But she nods, plainly but with a depth of understanding I can see in her eyes...she glances at him as she speaks and then back at me.

“Mentors protect us...love us...look after us...understand us. But there comes a time when we don’t need them to live for us anymore. You let him go. He knew you were ready. But it still hurts and I’m so sorry for you.”

And I realize she isn’t taking about me.

Without knowing exactly why, other than she is another missing piece of Finnick, I’m I’m hugging her again and she welcomes it.

“Good luck in 7. Take care of each other.”

She knows. To what extent I don’t know but she knows.

I sit back down and notice that Finnick sits at the head of the table by Lyme but keeps a close eye on me.

“It’s good that she listens to him. It’s a good sign.” Plutarch and his small talk.

I nod and smile faintly, sipping water. 

“Will you be staying here? With him?”

He is fishing for information and I won’t give it to him that easily. 

I just smile.

Luckily, Lyme interrupts. She speaks fondly of Haymitch and informs the crowd of his passing. She uses it to reiterate how important it is that we honor the wishes of all Victors. She mentions Finnick. His work to help her. And then explains how he and I will return to District 7 to man the outpost there and serve as communications for the western seaboard with the Capitol. She also mentions how our outpost will henceforth be referred to as The Mason Holding in 7. To honor Johanna. 

She proceeds with other survivors and their new assignments. Annie will be heading up a school for the children of the Capitol and those orphaned by the attacks. It will be named for Wiress and Beetee. Several other deployments, plans and honors are mentioned. Including the fact that Haymitch will be returned to 12 and buried in a new building that is being created to honor Peeta Mellark and the families of The Seam.

This was all Finnick. 

I’m fighting to focus on listening and eating and drinking, but I’m lost in watching him across the table. With all the talk of lives lost and mass destruction I realize as I look at him that it truly is something extraordinary that we survived. That we found each other. And that somehow...we will start this new chapter together. Honoring our friends by leaving the Capitol and living.

Not surviving. _Living._


	20. Chapter 20

** Day 58. **

The days pass in a strange blur now. I don’t see as much of Finnick as I would like to and it’s become clear that he feels a responsibility to help here. He won’t stay, he’s promised me that, but he also won’t leave until he knows he’s done all he can to help Commander Lyme.

It makes me miss Haymitch. I have no one else.

He must be a better person than I am because I feel no such debt. I spend my days in bed. Writing. Taking walks. Finding time to steal Finnick away for a moment sometimes. Yesterday we walked through the heavily guarded streets of The Capitol to assess damage. 

How relaxing. How...romantic.

I softly find ways to remind him of Mags’ words. That he can leave now, love the life he wants. He tells me that he wants to know we will be safe once we leave, too, and that’s much harder to argue with. But I can tell the longer he stays the harder it will be for him to just...go. He’s started saying things like ‘maybe you should go and I’ll follow as soon as I can’ or ‘maybe we go but I come back several times a month’ or ‘maybe we should stay here and really be a part of something big.’ 

It scares me. I don’t know how to tell him that every day we stay here I feel like I lose a little bit more of him. 

Because I will not stay. This place and the memories it holds for me are too much. I am desperate to escape them and if it weren’t for Finnick I would have left - on foot - by now.

He was gone before I woke this morning. A small note on the bedside table gave me a smile but only half the one I would have given him if he had still been there: _you’re too beautiful to wake. I love you. I’ll see you for lunch. -Finn_

I still have it tucked in my pocket as I head to the dining room. He is deep in conversation with Lyme and a few others when I enter, but she acknowledges me and points him in my direction. He excuses himself and moves quickly through the room, greeting me with a soft kiss on the cheek and taking my hand.

“I missed you...” he whispers in my ear.

“Did you?” I ask briefly, and before he has a chance to be stung people are sitting for lunch. The staff serves a beautiful array of soups and sandwiches. People make small talk. Finnick has his hand on my knee under the table and sometimes he will stroke it softly and I forget how annoyed I am by his aloofness. I need to talk to him. Alone and soon. I don’t like the way we feel.

Lyme uses her silver on her glass to draw attention and asks if there is anything to discuss for the greater good. I raise my hand, immediately feeling childish, but she gives me the floor.

I stand.

“Thank you,” I acknowledge her and then words start coming as quickly as I think them, “I would like to volunteer to return Haymitch Abernathy’s body to my district, before Finnick and I continue on to our post in Seven.”

There is silence but I can sense his tension beside me. Lyme rocks in her chair, looks at Finnick and then back at me.

“This will need to be done in the next two days. Will you be ready for that journey by then?”

Finnick stands and I’m not letting him dissuade her.

“Yes. Absolutely.” I answer. She nods with a smile.

“Thank you, Katniss, I am sure that is exactly how Haymitch would have wanted it.”

Lyme and I exchange a knowing look. As if she knows why I am really volunteering....and she accepts and even encourages it. She needs Finnick Odair, but not like I do.

Finnick on the other hand, does not. We finish lunch quietly and as people start to take their leave, I ask if we could return to my room to talk.

“Oh now you want to talk? Seems like you’re ok making decisions without doing that, doesn’t it?”

As if he has any room to talk.

And there it is. This will be our hurdle: two stubborn Victors desperate to call their own shots and too much alike to see past their own ignorance.

“Fine. We don’t need to talk.”

“Wonderful.”

He stands, folds his napkin on his plate and leaves. I, of course, nearly trip over myself to follow after him. 

“Finnick.”

I call him in the hallway as he heads to his room. 

“Finnick, stop.”

He reaches his door and opens it before turning to me. I finally catch him.

“We need to talk.”

He opens his door and lets me in. 

Not surprisingly it’s an awful lot like my room. Everything faces the opposite direction and some of the colors are inverted but very similar. I realize he’s always come to me.

He shuts the door.

“Ok, talk” he offers. There is annoyance in his voice and I don’t know how to take it.

I turn to him.

“What...what is happening?”

He looks genuinely confused, like he has no idea he has been distant, cold, preoccupied.

“What do you mean what is happening?”

I inhale sharply, walking towards him,

“I mean what is happening to you? You’ve barely looked at me since Haymitch died. Have I done something wrong?”

He scowls briefly. Moves in closer to me. Takes me by the arms.

“No, Katniss, of course not. Hy would you even think that?”

“You asked me to go with you. To Seven. It’s all I want. I want to leave. With you. Be there. With you. Please.”

I’m at risk of crying now and I wonder if he can tell.

“I want that too....” he starts and I can feel a ‘but’ coming so I stop him....

“No buts, Finnick. This is what we want. This is who we are.”

He smiles slightly, incredulously. He runs his fingers through his hair. 

“Who we are? You take that for granted Katniss. Knowing who you are.”

I lower my brow and try to keep him close.

“I know who you are, too,” I put my hand on his chest, right over his heart. He closes his eyes and I feel him take a deep breath, “Mags knew who you are. And we both love you. So much.”

He pulls from my hand all but swatting it away.

“If Mags knew half the shit I’ve done she wouldn’t even be able to look at me. Mags didn’t know who I am. I don’t even know who I am...” 

He’s walking away from me but I will not let him go. He’s all I have and I will not be giving up.

Mags wrote that letter not to calm him in one moment of loss but to help him through a lifetime of pain. I produce it from my back pocket. I’m working on memorizing it.

“ Four. What the Capitol did to you, that was and never will be your weight to bear. Hold no blame or regret or shame. It is not who you are. You never were. You never will be....”

I’m reciting her words so intently that I don’t notice him cross to me to take it.He pulls it roughly from my hand.

“You read my private letter and now you steal it from me, too?”

He’s not wrong but this is a Finnick I have never seen and frankly, he’s scaring me. So I go into battle.

“Yes. I stole it. Because I knew that in times like right now Mags would help more than I can and I need her to show me how to help you.”

“I don’t need your help, Katniss. Alright?”

“We all need help. Haymitch told us to take care of each other and that is what I intend to do. Whether you like it or not. In Seven. In two days. It’s not up for discussion.”

This place is eating him alive and I see it now. He needs a purpose and without knowing it, Lyme has given him one. 

I will help him find a better one. He’s palming the letter from Mags and twisting his mouth. I know he’s holding in words he doesn’t want to say to me. I approach him gently, and not as closely as I want to.

“You have to show me where it hurts, Finnick, so I can help.” 

He has his back to me and he hangs his head. The letter in his hand. I place a hand on his shoulder and he recoils. It’s slight and he steels against it, but he recoils. I pull it back and realize for a moment that I have no real grasp on the depth of his damage.

“Everywhere. It hurts everywhere.” I hear him whisper. 

My God, Finnick, what did they actually do to you.

But I don’t ask. My mind races and I’m piecing him together. A cobbled puzzle of Mags’ letter, the boy who spent days sitting and crying to himself on a boat. The boy who has to take care of everyone...as his penance for feeling like he’s a monster? The boy who hasn’t made love to me...and I think of all the times he almost has. What stopped him? I remember him telling me...that it was like his first real time. That all those years with Annie and he....

I don’t think he can. And I don’t think he can forgive himself for all the killing, or forget all of the abuse at the hands of Snow and God knows who even else. I close my eyes and think of Mags’ words: she knew. She knew this is who he would become. And even in her death she is fighting for him.

He is holding his letter but I recite my favorite part, gently and quietly, slowly closing tender fingers on his shoulder...and pressing my head into his back, hearing his heart between his shoulder blades.

“ your beautiful insides far outweigh your beautiful outsides. But someday someone will find you in there. Lots of someones will. And they will be the only ones that matter....,”  he hasn’t stopped me so I continue with my own words, “I found you, your beautiful insides. Please don’t shut me out now. Finnick. You’re all I’ve got. And I need you.”

I’m your purpose, Finnick. I need you to fix me, too.

He turns to me and his face is wet, eyes already pink and puffy. He doesn’t like to cry in front of me. He needs to get used to it. I take his face in my hands. He doesn’t pull from me and he doesn’t try to stop his crying. Whatever it’s root is right now all I can think about is loving him through it. ‘It’s ok’ I mouth. He closeshis eyes. Debating if he will go there with me. And he does. Through closed eyes his tears come thicker now and I close my arms gently around him. He’s enough taller than me that he has to lean but his head is on my shoulder. Weeping. I hold him still for a long time, fingers running over his back, whispering that I love him. Of all the feats of strength I have seen him accomplish, like...you know, surviving being fried on my behalf...this. This is the strongest. 

I start backing through the room. Pulling him along with me gently until we ease down onto his bed. He lays with me, still in my arms. Still baring his heart to me. I gingerly take the letter from his hand and place it next to the bed.

I don’t need Mags to see this next part.

“Look at me...” I whisper into the air and it takes his body a moment to register and respond. He looks at me. I melt.

“I want you to make love to me. Just like this. Soft and slow. You can cry, Finn. I will, too. But I need you just like this. But I want you inside of me. I need...you.”

I can see him letting my words wash over him and I know he wants me. Which is why two days of his struggling to touch me is so obvious.”

“Katniss...I don’t know if....”

I raise my finger to his lips. I hush him with it and then run it lightly across his swollen pout.

“We’ll learn together. Right?”

I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know if this is what he needs. I’m laying on my back with this beautiful crying boy at my side and I just want to feel him, in every way possible. And I want him to feel me.

I make a conscious effort to keep my actions as pure and simple and vulnerable as I can. To give him just enough control to feel power but keep just enough of it to be his strength. I’m unzipping my jumpsuit, easing it open and lifting my body in phases to wiggle out of it on the bed until I am completely exposed next to him. I take his hand and rest it on my bare belly, watching him. His touch is electric but there is a sudden element of someone who doesn’t know what to do next. And that’s good, I tell myself.

I let my legs hand open slightly, the cool air chilling me. I ease my fingers down past his hand and gently strum myself. I’m glued to his face to gauge his feeling. I’m only doing this because I know if I’m not wet I won’t be able to take him. And I need to be able to take him. 

His fingers are moving against my belly button. Slowly at first and then gradually crawling down toward mine. I don’t stop. But I feel his fingers meet my own and start to gently play at me. He presses his head into my neck and I feel his breath hitch with a a cry, even as his fingers glide over me. I place his hand under mine and gently push his finger inside of me, shuddering at the feel of both of us in me.

“Don’t hide from me....” I turn and nuzzle his head until I unbury it from my neck.

“Can I touch you?” I whisper once I have his eyes. I feel him against my side. He’s not hard. He’s fingering me slowly and gently and I’m wetting is both, but he isn’t hard. 

And that’s ok, too.

He nods slowly. I grimace slightly.

“You tell me...with your voice...that it’s what you want.”

He swallows.

“I...yes...please touch me.”

I gently unzip his suit and open it. He adjusts to pull his arms free, and then lifts his torso from the bed and pulls his body free from it. I watch him as he gets naked in front of me. Almost seeming...embarrassed. As if his body could ever be something to be embarrassed by. But I haven’t seen the things he has. I fight off the thought. I bring his face to mine with his free hand. Smiling softly.

“Your insides are so beautiful...but your outsides are pretty impressive too.” I elicit a slight smile and chuckle before I slowly move my hand down his stomach, reveling in the hair that’s there that the Capitol would have waxed from every inch of him. I let my fingers dance through it before finding the base of him. He adjusts, slightly uneasy.

“Please....” his heady whine of a beg is all at once desperately young and sexy. I wrap my fingers around his base one at a time and immediately feel him thicken in my touch. I’m slowly starting to milk his length and he moans, his hand still gently resting between my legs, finger making circles inside my wet depths. His legs stretch and he moans. I’m hyper aware of the boy who couldn’t hold onto his orgasm the last time we tried. I don’t want him to feel that pressure.

“Do you want to make love to me, Finnick?” I’m choosing my words so carefully. I want to beg him to. I want to tell him I need to feel him in me. But I don’t want this to be about my needs. Or my wants.

He nods. Yes.

I correct him gently.

“Can you tell me what you want? I want to give you what you want....”

He swallows and I see him lick his teeth in his mouth. His hips are gently moving into my fist almost like his rolling them in circles.

“I want you. So bad....I...don’t want to mess this up....”

I run my fingers through the sweaty length of hair on his forehead.

“You can’t. Please make love to me, Finnick Odair. Please let me be the one.”

I’m humping at his fingers now and I want him so badly I can barely see. My nipples are so hard they ache. My whole body is tense.

He is slowly rolling on top of me now. Our hands still working on each other. He pulls his fingers from me slowly and runs his wet middle finger over that spot that I can barely stand. I gasp. For a second I let myself be afraid of how this might hurt. He’s large, long and muscular like the rest of him, and I know how much it takes me to adjust to even his finger. 

I’m still pulling gently at his cock, his slick tip now rubbing right against me so he moves his finger from the way. 

“I love you Finnick.” I don’t know when I started to but I’m crying.

“I love you, Katniss.” He is, too.

He’s inside me now. Just the very top of him and we both hiss. I push my legs open desperate to take him.

But this hurts. Not a hurt I want to stop, but one I’m having to work through. I feel a tear fall from him and wet my forehead, and his eyes are closed. 

“Look at me.” I whisper and it’s more pained than I wanted it to be. 

“Am I hurting you?” He whispers, his voice thick with concern.

“You could never, ever hurt me, baby.”

He collapses onto me, sobbing softly into my shoulder and then making himself look at me. I lift my hips and he’s slowly pushing inside of me. I bite my lip and try soo hard not to let the pain of it escape my mouth. It does. I cry out his name but tell him I love him all at once.

“I can stop...we don’t have to...”

He ’s worried. He stills himself but I Am rockingmy pelvis and begging him.

“Please...all the way...” I manage.

And he does. He’s so deep in methat I ache all the way up between my breasts and I feel my entire body hollow and fill all at once. I wince and moan and it tears and I can’t breathe and then it...subsides.

He’s crying into my shoulder and I don’t make him look at me now. I just hold him. And he holds me. And we rock slowly together, our hip bones grinding together like we are afraid to separate. I whisper that I love him over and over and I can feel him crying, his chest heaving on mine as he buries deeper into my neck and his hands lift me into him. 

He raises from me slightly, lifting his head until I can raise up to hold it. I take the sides of his face gently. He rears his head back and is moving faster and deeper into me but still painfully slowly. I know he’s close and he’s fighting it.

“Let go, Finnick. You don’t have to wait.” I whisper, and he looks back down on me, biting his lip.

“Where....” he asks me gently and I wonder if he’s just conditioned at this point to take an order of where to come the same way he would take an order for a drink.

“Wherever you want...” I coo at him and he closes in on me. He wraps his hands up behind my head, weaving them into my hair as he props on elbows. My nipples are rubbing his chest and I think I might fall apart watching him. With very little warning he’s coming inside me. He moves so slowly, slight barely there pulses forward that leave a little bit more of him behind every time. I tell him how much I love him over and over because it’s all I can think and he says it back. 

His climax is long and I don’t want it to stop but when it does we collapse together in a lazy pile of flesh and tears and sweat and come and I want to keep him right there forever. I can feel him slowly running from me and the sensation gives me butterflies.

“You ok?” He whispers to me, gravelly and low. I want to tell him that I’ve never been more ok. But I just nod.

“Use your voice, Katniss...” 

“I’m...ok...” breathless but ok. He’s reaching between us and he finds my center without trying, even as he stills and shrinks inside me. He’s pulling me gently between his thumb and forefinger and my skin is so incredibly slick. 

“I need you to come...” he whispers and I won’t have worry about obeying because my body is already stretching and turning under his weight trying not to explode. And I know he needs it. That’s Finnick. He would never just let this be for him no matter how desperately I wanted it to be. So I give him exactly what he needs: I come hard around him, his fingers expertly bring me over the edge. I arch my back and he cradles me, gently sucking at one of my nipples and then the other. I’m calling for him. It’s so wet and it comes in waves. When I think I’m done I shudder again, eventually convulsing so hard I push him from me altogether. I’m empty only for a second when his finger replaces his cock and I pull him into me until my body finally just retreats and falls lifeless into his bed. He wraps himself around me and somehow manages to pull the covers over us. I turn into his chest and we hold each other.

It wasn’t perfect. It was messy and complicated and uneasy but full of love and depth.

Just like us.

“I’m sorry I’ve been a jerk. I’m...trying to figure this out.”

This. He means his life. And I understand.

“It’s ok. Just....let me help you figure it out. That’s what we promised them we would do right? Help each other.”

He gently kisses my mouth several times. I’m falling asleep on him as he does.

“You have go meet them?” I ask, knowing he has things he needs to do.

“No,” he responds, “I have to stay right here.”

The boy from Four, maybe for thefirst time, calls his own shot.


	21. Chapter 21

** Day 58 **

Today we leave. 

The last two days have been no cake walk: Finnick has had definite moments of crabbiness, irritability, and downright withdrawal. But I’m starting to learn what triggers them enough to cut them off at the pass.

Mostly. 

But the good news is he doesn’t shut me out entirely when I can tell he is spiraling. It’s like I can feel him trying and I just have to keep reminding myself that I can’t let him think for one half of a second that I will ever give up.

We leave today. Early. As ready as I am I am anxious, too. We will stop in 12 but not leave the hovercraft. I decided I didn’t want to see what is left until it has become something full of hope and not regret.

And I’m anxious about the outpost. I love Finnick. With my whole heart. But I’m starting to doubt that I am fully equipped to help him. And if I can’t...who will? I repeat parts of Mags’ letter in my head frequently. And Haymitch’s words. I see it so clearly now. The strength that he exudes and the things that it hides. I wonder, like I know he does, who he is when he doesn’t have someone else to look after. Or to appease someone else. Some other problem to solve. Is taking him out into the woods alone really the answer?

I’m showering. My things are packed. His things are packed. He was up early to go over some final arrangements with Commander Lyme and some others. He asked me last night how I felt about him maintaining frequent contact with her. I told him I didn’t mind. I hope that was the right answer.

I’m washing my hair and I realize it’s started to grow in. Almost two months have passed since we left the arena. And it’s a different world. I’m lost in the thought of it all when I hear him enter the bathroom. I can just barely make out his form through the steamy glass. He’s in black and not his usual grey. He sits a few things on the sink and looks over towards me. I know he can’t make out that I am looking at him and I still have a strange fascination with watching him when he doesn’t know he can be seen. 

He pulls his shirt off of his shoulders and over his head before stepping out of his pants. I resist the urge to wipe the fog from the glass.

He walks toward the door and I know he means to come in. I try to act naturally, rinsing my hair as he does. He eases the heavy glass shut behind him before pressing himself into my back, making room for himself under the steamy water.

I don’t say anything just lean back into his body and rest my head on his shoulder. He kisses the side of my face and holds me at my the hips. I already want him.

I moan at his touch and he reaches past me to turn the water up just enough that I notice. I startle for just a second then adjust.

“You always take cold showers?” He asks innocently and I start to laugh. The bathroom is so full of steam I can barely see him two feet away. That hardly qualifies as cold. I spin in his hands till we are face to face. 

“And you like showers that threaten to melt your skin off. Noted.” I’m smiling at him and gently pushing us both out of the water, but he turns us so his back catches most of it and I’m immediately more comfortable. I think of the last time we found ourselves in a shower stall. His infection. The panic. The cabin.

“It’s fun getting to know each other, right?” He whispers gently and then leans in and kisses at the bridge of my nose. Right on my scar. He kisses it a lot. I nod a slow yes. He knows getting to know him, the giant cloud of mystery, is my favorite thing. And I know he’s trying to learn me, too. 

“So good news and bad news.....” his words float in the steam and I am sick from them. Here it comes.

“Bad news first.” I instruct him quickly needing him to just do it so I don’t sit and think and dread and panic. He nods, wrapping his hands on my back.

“Lyme wants to accompany us to Seven with another survivor from the area. He worked with Johanna before the Quell. Knows the district. Lyme says there’s a bunker not far from the outpost and they’d like to show us around, see what is left, work on restoring the supplies there.”

I’m listening along. While this isn’t super great news...it is not the horrible news I was expecting. It’s pretty far down the list of things he could have said, in fact.

“Ok. And the good news?”

“Well....I’m not really finished with the bad news....”

“Finnick, what?”

I don’t have the energy for much more of this. He wraps his hands tighter on my lower back, pressing me harder against him. He very intentionally pushes his hips forward and I feel his length.

“Just means we won’t be alone out there for a couple days. The cabin is pretty small, and....I’m kinda done being watched.”

His voice is a slow, sexy, whiny purr. He even growls slightly after. Playful, sexy, Finnick. This is brand new to me. 

And I love it.

I furrow my brow.

“Oh no, is Finnick worried about something?”

He nods, feigning a pout. I’m already sinking on to my knees. And I see that smirk. It creeps across his face and it’s a strange cocktail of evil and sex and boyish charm and genuine affection. It’s the look he had when I first met him and until this minute I thought it was part of his glazed Capitol persona. But looking at him now I see what could have been a tow headed boy from Four who just got caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar. 

Noted. Real Finnick still poses dangerous sexuality...which is probably why they monopolized it in the first place.

I’m on my knees in front of him and I rake my fingernails down his stomach as he leans his head back into the water. Soaking his face and filling his mouth until I watch him make a tiny spout of it with his lips like a whale. I can’t help but laugh to myself. I’m on my knees about take take him in my mouth and he’s playing in the water like a toddler. 

Also noted. 

But he won’t be for long.

I lift his already hard cock in my hands and run my tongue under him from his base slowly up to his tip with my eyes on him the whole time. He’s unbelievably sexy with water pouring down over him, but you better believe he stops paying attention to it once my mouth is on him. He has an arm over his head, his hand bracing back some of his longer hair. He looks like some kind of statue. But I also let myself smile up at him as I notice a strange new comfort level with me.

I kiss the top of his cock sweetly, the same way I wish I could kiss his wet lips right now. He’s already salty and I close my mouth over the top even though I had every instinct and intention to tease him for awhile. I’m hungry for him.

I close my mouth fully on him and start to adjust to his length, humming at his taste and opening the back of my throat. He take his hand from his hair and moves it into mine. Caressing the back of my head and guiding me gently off and on him. I see the sides of his stomach hollow and contract as he moves with me and I’m starting to feel pretty confident in my ability to do this. 

I’m sinking deeper into the shower floor as my knees get weak and my legs start to slip in their shakiness, I brace myself with one hand and find my center with the other. It’s still amazes me what happens to my body just from manipulating his. He’s watching me and it makes me feel incredibly hot that he likes what he sees. I’m rolling my hips on my hand as I roll my tongue on his cock and he moans so loud it fills the echoey shower stall. Rising with the heat from the water. I’m gently taking him into the back of my throat when he thrusts just a little too hard...I gag and sputter and for half a second I’m sure I’m about to throw up on him so I rock back quickly. In no time at all he has joined me on my knees, I’m covering my mouth and he’s asking if I’m ok. Embarrassed, yes. But ok, also yes.

I nod shyly and take my hand from my mouth. 

“Sorry...I got a little excited...” he whispers apologetically, stroking the side of my head.

“I like when you’re excited.”

I’m pretty sure it’s not the heat of the shower making him blush. He rocks back onto his heels, his cock still hard and standing at full attention between us.

“C’mere...” he’s beckoning me with his head, too. And I do. I crawl towards him on the shower floor and move to sit on his lap, balancing myself carefully until he reaches behind me and takes my weight in his hands, wrapping his arms around and under me. I feel the tip of him struggling to find me and since his hands are full of me I reach down and hold him, guiding his cock into me. And I’m so wet for him already that that intense sting from the last time I held him in me is barely even noticeable. This just feels...incredible. He’s watching my face to make sure I’m ok as I slowly sink on to him. He’s using weight of his legs to push gently up and into me and I yelp his name at the feel of it. 

We move together easily, the water and steam helping us glide fluidly together. I lean in to kiss him, gently smiling against his mouth at how incredibly he feels inside me. I feel his lips curl, too. I’m bouncing quicker and quicker on top of him and wondering how he is managing to keep his balance. I bitemy lip against the burning heat coming from between my legs and I can feel myself tightening around him slightly as we move.

“Close?” He asks....and I nod as my teeth clamp down on my bottom lip mercilessly. In one gazelle like movement he slides out of me and lays me back against the shower floor. I’m splayed out, soaking wet, water still spraying down over me making it hard to keep my eyes open. He pushes my knees open with his hands and dives between them. His mouth closes on me before I know what’s happening. His tongue is lapping at me like he’s trying to clean all the water from my body and with with each stroke from bottom to top he’s pushing it further into me. His tongue. Inside of me. It’s warm and soft and different and my body jerks against him as I grab the back of his head and push him into me so hard I wonder how he’s breathing. I lift one leg into the air because I am desperate to get more of his mouth on to me. He reaches between my legs with his hand and his fingers are furiously rubbing against the top of me, shooting waves through my legs to my toes as I feel myself pulling against his mouth. He pushing and pulling with his tongue just like he does with his cock and I explode. 

I scream for him so loud I know everyone up and down the hall has to hear it. I’m tugging on his hair, watching him buried between my twitching and aching thighs. I can’t get him deep enough. He’s moaning and I see that he’s reaching down to work on himself too and I’m desperate to be able to reach him.I’m screaming words I don’t even know as I release all around him. He pulls his mouth from me and replaces it with his fingers like he knew I needed it deeper. He’s pumping two long fingers in and out of me hard as I come for him. He watches for a second or two before closing his mouth over my most sensitive spot. It’s too much. I slam my thighs closed, trapping him but desperate for him to not touch me there, I think I’ll pass out. He’s relentless and I scream as I keep convulsing around him. My legs are cramping from how hard I’m tightening them and when I finally come down I think I actually black out for a second or two.

He slinks you over my shivering body. My eyes are wide, looking for him in the bright light and spraying water. He closes his lips over mine and I taste myself on him. My tongue rolling into his mouth and finding his, curious about my own scent on him. 

“You like it?” He’s breathless and husky. I coyly nod yes and he smiles. I’m reaching for his cock but he leans back and shuts the water off.

I pout. What?

“Next time. We need to get moving.”

He leans down and kisses my forehead whispering that he loves me.

I want to argue with him. But if he is pushing me to move faster to leave this place...I’m following him. 

We dry off together. Brushing teeth and getting dressed. Occasionally sharing a smile or a glance but mostly dutifully packing and prepping. I make the bed I’ve slept in and casually think about the coziness of the cabin’s loft bed with its down quilted covers and it’s raw wood. It’s a far departure from the grandness of this throne and a beautiful one.

Finnick runs to his room for a few things and I try to ignore the fact that he is acting slightly cagey. I know it’s a combination of his anxieties and mine. But it’s only heightened when the guards come for me and there is no sign of Finnick. It isn’t until I get to the hovercraft and see him and Commander Lyme that I relax...a little. He crosses to me and we walk the ramp together. He takes my hand and I realize it’s been shaking.

“You alright?” He asks genuinely. I nod. My eyes are already on the long black box in the center of the seating. Haymitch. Finnick notices and squeezes my hand. I remind myself I’m lucky to be burying him. God knows what happened to Mags’ body. And Finnick didn’t get near the goodbye I did either. It’s these things that keep me from falling apart. 

We sit together, fastening in. Lyme sits to his right and I’m to his left. The hovercraft is too loud for me to hear what she says but she talks to him most of the trip. And even as he holds my hand I feel uneasy. She represents his old life...his inability to let go of it is mirrored in her and I wonder how much she knows that. 

I doze off and on, pressed into his shoulder. He sleeps some, too...resting his head on mine. I think of Haymitch. What he would say to us. If he could see us now. A rag tag band of broken survivors.

Lyme wakes us and shouts that we are nearing 12. She and another guard move towards the pilot for instructions and Finnick sits up, unstraps and turns to me.

“You’re sure?”

He’s asking me if I want to come. See my obliterated hometown. I do not. I’m not ready.

I shake my head sadly, wondering who I might be disappointing.He smiles and cups my chin.

“It’s ok. I just wanted to double check.”

He holds my face for another moment and then joins the guards and Lyme as the hovercraft quickly makes a descent. I watch them surround the box containing Haymitch. I say a quick and quiet prayer for him and then close my eyes. I hear the ramp open. Hear them struggle to carry his body down it and through the lift. Some quick discussion. I don’t want to see it. Any of it. I feel it coming over me. The panic. I can picture it in my mind. The fire. The bombs. The burning bodies of everyone I ever knew. I grip my seat and try to force breaths but I can’t get one deep enough.

“Finnick...” I whisper. I know he can’t possibly have heard me but suddenly he is there, squatting before me, my hands in his. My eyes fly open and find his. My heart is racing. He puts his hand on the side of my face before leaning into me and whispering so he knows I hear him.

“It’s beautiful. The new building. It’s going to be beautiful. I can’t wait for you to see it,” he kisses my cheek and then continues to whisper, holding one of my hands to his chest, “breath just like I am. It’s almost over.”

I slowly force myself to match his breath and he’s right. It slowly passes and I can see straight again. 

Finnick is no stranger to walking someone through a panic attack. He kisses my forehead and sits next to me, strapping back in. He pulls me into him and I sleep...exhausted and sound...until we land in Seven.

I’ve always been fascinated by our innate ability to pass strength back and forth. I’m strong then he’s strong...I move then he moves. I break and then he breaks. 

I try not to think about the fact that he just helped me, so as we land in Seven...it’s only hair that it’s his turn.

To fall apart.


	22. Chapter 22

We arrive in Seven and as soon as the ramp opens I smell the piney, salty air and I feel a strange calm come over me. I wake slowly, inhaling it. I turn to Finnick. He’s watching the ramp when he notices I’m up.

“Morning. Welcome home.” He winks casually and unbuckles. I do the same and quietly gather my things as Lyme approaches me. She places her hand on my shoulder and smiles, before walking down the ramp. She is flanked by two guards and the other man that accompanied us. He boarded late but I assume that he is the District Seven resident that is meant to be our guide. He’s large. Muscular. He looks like he belongs here and I can tell he is anxious to get his feet back on familiar soil.

He puts his pack on his back and walks down the ramp, and I am suddenly desperate to follow him quickly. I want to learn this world from him. It’s his.

I scoot clumsily down the ramp behind him, still fixing my bow across my back, leaving Finnick to grab the rest of our gear. 

As soon as we are away from the hovercraft, he stops and looks around. He’s inhaling that same smell I have come to love. 

“It’s beautiful here.” I mention cautiously to him. He turns and gives me a faint smile. 

“It’s the most beautiful place there is. Well, it was.” 

He looks off again. Sadness on his face. His shoulders slumping. I can see that the pain of this place for him is the same I tried to avoid in 12. And for the first time it dawns on me: being a Victor didn’t buy me extra pain. There are no unbroken survivors. Snow and his legacy ruined every single one of us. Surviving the Games may be the only reason I’m alive right now and not just charred remains in The Seam. I wonder if he is thinking the same thing about his own family. 

I notice his wedding band and choke a bit.

He notices Lyme and the guards entering the outpost. Finnick slightly behind them. 

“Let’s go get you moved in, huh?”

I smile at him. He’s kind and warm and reminds me of Haymitch in a way that is comforting.

Once we are inside I see Finnick taking a few steps on the ladder and flinging our bags to the loft. I breathe a sigh of relief...half remembering a time when he couldn’t make it up a ladder, and half glad he is claiming that space as ours.

“The rest of us will only be here two nights so we can bunk up here by the fire,” Lyme suggests and they all drop their bags. Four people on the floor might be maximum capacity for this small cabin but I tell myself it’s just till they know what we need. 

“The faster we are able to make some assessments the faster we can return to The Capitol and send a craft back with a store of supplies. So I’d like to make today productive,” Lyme has laid out a plan and I’m glad to hear her desire not to stay long, “Finnick and I will make our way to the bunker to check that it’s safe and take stock of what we need. Our guards will secure several posts along the coast to ensure we haven’t missed anything from the air. Katniss if you’re comfortable I’d like you to survey the area for tree stands and outlooks and pick off some mines we spotted from the air. Jackson will accompany you....”

Jackson. I didn’t know his name. I’m so used to everyone knowing mine that I never introduce myself. He stands by me securing an axe in his belt.

“You’ll know these woods as well as I do by sunset.” We share a slight smile. 

Lyme excuses us and produces a large cooler of water. Finnick climbs the ladder and I watch him moving through his things and packing a bag to take. I also notice him pull a small sack from his bag and stash it somewhere I can’t see. I try to shake it but it doesn’t sit well with me.

He climbs down swiftly and finds me. A slight smile.

“Fish or fowl for dinner?” He smiles, trying to put me at ease. 

“Sounds like fowl since you’ll be spending your day underground.” I don’t like the idea. I’d rather go with him but I am trying to understand.

“Just a few hours. Ok?”

I’m getting ready to answer when Jackson does it for me.

“She’ll be safe. I promise.” He gives Finnick his hand and they shake.

“I know” he answers. He leans in and kisses my forehead. 

We grab waters and scatter.

Just a few hours. I take a deep breath. I can do this. 

Jackson and I start shoulder to shoulder and I’m happy he starts out in a similar path to the ones I had foraged when we lived here. He’s impressed at what I already know: the lookouts, the itchweed, the downed trees. We find it and I think back of our hiding there as I see something flashing under it. He notices it too and pulls the brush back. Finnick’s trident. The sun hitting it just so. He never returned for it.

Jackson pulls it free and tosses it, gently shaking his head as he smiles.

“I wouldn’t know the first thing about using one of these....” he plays at lancing something invisible with it and I chuckle to myself. 

“Finnick will teach you. I don’t know that anyone can use it like he does.”

“I’m surprised Lyme lets him keep it. Maybe that’s why he hid it.”

I’m not sure what he means. It wasn’t the answer I was expecting.

“What do you mean?”

He extends his arm and hands the trident to me.

“Lyme...she...she’s running a tight ship at The Capitol. She’s what we need. I get it. But I also get the real impression she’d rather have him there as her right hand man than out here on his own. Well, not on his own...but you know. I’d just...watch her. Off the record.”

“Of course.” I nod. That low voice in the back of my head that told me something was uneasy, something about her hold on him was manipulative. Now that voice is screaming. Something hasn’t been right and it’s not right now.

“Show me where the bunker is.”

I command him. I’m not sitting on this. And I’m not letting her get Finnick out there on his own to convince him that he needs to stay and help her. Or make the return to get supplies himself and then once we are separated...convince him to not to come back. Jackson points me in the right direction and I convince him to stay and monitor the woods.

I make my way hastily through the woods, armed with my bow and this new knowledge of Lyme and her plans for Finnick.

I find the bunker. A small grey set of doors into the side of a hill. I’m surprised to find it opened and able to access. It relieves me in a way that Lyme feels like it’s safe enough here to not lock a door behind her. Maybe that will help me convince her this is where he belongs. 

I slip through the door and listen for sounds. It descends deeply. Quickly. I swallow hard and lean on the cold wall. I hate this. I can do this. Luckily there is just one long hallway so I don’t have too many choices as far as trying to find them. I see dim light coming from a door towards the end of the hall. Along it there cabinets. Some opened. Some closed. Most filled with cans and cartons from what I can see.

I hear noise. Not talking, just noise. I assume they are searching cabinets and pantries for supplies. 

I assume wrong.

I turn the corner, relieved to find them. But that relief is short. I see her first. Her usually tall frame is dwarfed. She’s kneeling in front of him. His black pants are around his ankles and his hand full of the hair at her forehead. She’s moaning with her mouth full, his head hanging down over his left shoulder. I see and hear enough to know what she’s doing. 

And. I. Rage.

I’m not sure if I scream first or slam my bow into the wall first or if they happen simultaneously. But they startle and both of their eyes find me. 

“What is happening??” 

I scream it and I’m staring at him, filling with bile and hate and confusion. 

“Katniss...” he calls for me as he is trying to get into his pants and it’s pathetic. Lyme is just as mortified and I want to hurt her. I want to shoot her. I want to hit her. I turn and run and head back through the hall, gradually and clumsily galloping into a run.

I feel my self start to throw up but I’m not stopping for either of them to catch me so I choke it down. 

I run through the woods, as grateful that Jackson didn’t follow me as I am that everyone is gone from the cabin when I finally reach it. I slam the door behind me but don’t take the time to lock it. I should. But I want to get into the loft and hide. From Finnick, from Lyme, from the world. I fall onto the bed and push my face into the comforter not sure whether to scream or cry or yell or vomit.

How could he? Why would he?

I hear the door and I know it’s him. I don’t move. He doesn’t speak. It stays like this for longer than I am comfortable with.

“Katniss...I’m sorry...” he whispers. I don’t respond and I don’t move. Honestly for the first time since meeting him I don’t want to see his face. 

“Katniss...”

He’s moving towards the ladder.

“Don’t you dare come up here.” I shout from the blanket. 

“Then come down here...” he yells back. He’s begging. And the tears I have been holding back come. They come on hard. And for the first time, I want him to see me cry. I sit up in bed and move to the railing. 

He’s standing alone in front of the fire looking up at me.

“I’m so sorry.” Is all he says. I can’t even make sense of what I just saw or how something like that could happen and he’s just...so sorry.

I start to laugh. I actually...laugh. I think I’m so confused and drained that my body doesn’t know how to react.

“You’re sorry?!” I say through a laugh, “I mean, that’s all you can say to me?! You’re sorry?! Fuck you, Finnick. This is not how the world works.”

“I know.” He whispers, not fighting with me when I desperately want him to.

“You know. That’s right you do know. You’re not a child, Finnick. And no one is telling you what to do anymore. If you want to run around doing whatever feels best to you in whatever given moment you go right ahead. I’m not your mother. I’m not Mags. I’m not Annie. I’m done trying to figure you out when you don’t give a shit about how I’m feeling....”

I’m spitting everything at him. High blows. Low blows. He just stands there and takes it. 

“You’re a liar. You don’t love me. You don’t love yourself so how could you possibly....it’s not your fault. It’s my fault. For thinking I could save you. You don’t want to be saved.”

Still. Nothing from Finnick. He whispers another apology but I’m blind with hurt and anger. I start tearing the loft apart. I want to know what he brought that he didn’t want me to see. What other secrets and lies and facets of him that he thinks he can hide. I’m pulling at blankets and pillows, tossing some over the ledge by accident.

“Katniss, please come down....”

I hear him faintly but I’m too far gone. 

I find it. A small black bag. I’m guessing more nightlock but nothing would surprise me at this point. I move to the ledge and hold it up. His expression goes from pathetic to panicky.

“Katniss, don’t....”

“Everything about you is a secret to me. And I’m starting to think you like it that way....”

“I don’t. Katniss I don’t like it this way, please...please just come down.”

He begging me now and I can see how broken he is. I want to relent but I am too far invested in this battle. 

And my heart is broken.

I pull at the strings of the bag and reveal a small black box. I recognize it immediately. It was with his letter in Haymitch’s drawers. I hold it in my palm, confused and wondering what part Haymitch played in this new unfolding of Finnick. Or maybe another plan for my life I was never included in. 

“Katniss....”

Finnick is calling to me. Asking me to stop. I ignore him and click the box open. 

It’s...a ring. Blindingly beautiful. A band of gold that seems to glow in the light, swirls of flame wrap around small engraved wings. I stare at it. Lost so deeply in it’s beauty that it only slowly dawns on me why Haymitch had it...and why Finnick has it now.

“Cinna had it made for you,” Finnick is talking lowly now...not shouting to be heard, just sadly explaining, “Haymitch gave it to me....so I could give it to you....if I...when I...anyway, it’s yours now.”

My hands start shaking on the box and I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel or say. But I can’t see him. Not now.

“I need you to leave, Finnick.”

He doesn’t retort and he doesn’t beg me to come down. I’m staring at this ring and only barely letting my eyes travel to watch him go. He turns at the door and looks up at me.

“I’m sorry I fucked this up. It was just a matter of time...”

He leaves and slams the door. I’m left alone in this cabin that suddenly feels like a prison with a beautiful ring that a beautiful broken boy was going to give me. And I ruined it out of anger. 

But I’m allowed to be angry. I don’t know how to navigate any of this.

I take the ring from the box and twirl it in my fingers. Staring at it. Trying to think only if it’s beauty and not what I walked in on earlier. I think of Cinna. What he would tell me to do. 

He would want me to forgive him, I think.

I hear the door and the clicking of boots that tell me immediately it’s not Finnick.

It’s Lyme. The guards. Jackson. I tuck the ring in my pocket and climb the ladder. Jackson stares at me like he knows something is wrong. They are all collecting their things. Jackson steps out, followed by the guards, until it’s just Commander Lyme and I that remain and I am staring at her so hard it hurts. 

When the door clicks closed I see her swallow hard and clasp her hands in front of her.

“Do you want to go first or should I?” She asks.

“I have nothing to say to you.” And I mean it. My face...expressionless.

“I’m sorry that I misjudged this situation. I didn’t realize that the two of you were...I knew there was attraction there. Not the depth of it. I just assumed with Finnick’s reputation....”

“Finnick’s reputation?!”

I stop her cold. She is not about to blame this on Finnick’s reputation. She arches an eyebrow.

“You’re a Victor. You know better than that. Finnick’s ‘reputation’ was crafted by the Capitol. He was sold. Bought and sold and forced to do unimaginable things....”

I see it washing over her and realize she had no idea. I don’t know why I assumed she did, or why it matters...but it does. He was also trained to not tell anyone no...especially someone with the ability to pull strings with his life. I’m slowly starting to hate myself for the things I said to him in anger.

“I....I didn’t realize....I’m...I should have known better and I crossed a line. I’m sorry.”

We stand in silence for a long while. 

“You should be.”

She gathers bags and leaves out the front door. I feel empty. What the hell do I do now??

Jackson knocks and then slowly re enters.

“Everything ok?” He knows it isn’t. I nod yes anyway.

“Looks like we got what we needed today so if the two of you are ok, we will go ahead and return to the Capitol. We have radio contact now so if you need anything we are a call away. I requested to make the return trip with supplies. So I’ll be back here in a week.”

I smile slightly.

“Just you?” I ask him.

“Well I can’t fly a hover so I’ll need a pilot but other than that yes. Just me.” He winks. He knows what I was asking. He extends his hand and I shake it. 

“Everything’s gonna work out. You know. The buildings, the people. Shit’s all burned up and destroyed now but it’s gettin’ worked on. Your home...my home...your friend out there with the trident. Don’t give up.”

He smiles slightly and I fight to return it. I notice he has laid Finnick’s trident against the porch as I follow him out and watch them board the craft. Lyme never turns back around to face me. It’s for the best. 

I watch it ascend and stand in its wicked breeze on the porch. I wonder to myself if Finnick heard it leave and thinks I’m on it. I sit on the porch, questioning my ability talk to him civilly yet. It’s just the two of us again. So it will get harder to ignore him. I inhale deeply. 

Waiting won’t make it easier. And I know where he is.

I stand slowly and nervously make my way to the beach.


	23. Chapter 23

As I make my way towards the beach through the tall grass and tree that lines the sand path from the cabin I’m grateful for one thing: that for as little as I continue to know about a Finnick Odair there are some predictable things about him that seem unchanging. 

Like the fact that I knew exactly where he would go, that before I even see him I know exactly what he will be doing. Like the fact that even though my heart is aching and my head is pounding I don’t think I could stay mad at him if I tried. Especially not now.

When I get to the shore I see him: his tiny boat anchored not far from the shoreline. The sun hanging in the sky above him creating his silhouette. It’s slumped forward onto his knees. He back rounded. Hands tucked around his ankles and bare feet. His shirt in a pile next to him. He’s not as far out as he usually is and the shoreline is shallow enough for fishing here...and walking.

I take off the heavy weight of my pants and wade in the water until I’m making my way past my waist. Shit. So I start swimming. Securing my shirt pockets and hoping for the best. He isn’t far and seems oblivious to me. But he isn’t for long because as I approach the boat I can no longer touch and I am seriously lacking the upper body strength to pull myself up. 

I grip the side of the boat and it rocks, turning him towards me. Remarkably calm. Almost sedate. We meet eyes and he quickly moves to help. With one hand on the boat I give him my other one and he heaves me up until my waist is above the side and I can shimmy up on to the platform. 

I don’t say anything and neither does he. I crash into a dripping pile and he tosses me his dry shirt before sitting back down where he was.

I pull my wet shirt off and lay it carefully over the side of the boat before replacing it with his. I take a long time pulling it over my head. It smells like him and I want to hide in it for a second. I also take a breath in it and steel myself against crying or getting myself worked up.

I move next to him. Not touching him. But next to him. And I join him in watching the sun over the horizon. Honestly it feels like hours pass and I’m not sure that at least one doesn’t. Then finally, he speaks. And I’m not even sure it’s to me.

“I don’t know what happened. I don’t know how I let it happen. I should have told her no. I should have stopped. It happened so fast. And...I don’t remember how it started....she asked if I got lonely...told me how lonely she was....” he is muttering to himself and swallowing hard between breaths like he is trying to somehow piece together what happened. I don’t know whether to interrupt or let him talk. Whether to answer his rhetorical questions or let them hang there.

“I should have told her no. I don’t remember how we got in there.....that room...we were in the hall....”

He’s frowning and I join him. I’m watching him talk and realizing...he really doesn’t remember how it started. Is that even possible? Maybe for him it is. Maybe not saying no. Not thinking. Not remembering...maybe that’s how he survived it before and so he’s surviving it now the same way? 

“Hey...” I whisper mostly to see if he’s even with me. He turns.

“Why didn’t I just tell her no?” He asks me, pleading. Like he knows he has made a big mistake that was completely in his control to avoid and he...just didn’t.

“I don’t know, Finnick.” His eyes are glassing over and he is literally begging me to help him understand why this happened when deep down we both know. She’s in charge. She asked him for something. Something sexual. And he couldn’t tell her no. It’s really that simple.

And I still want to be angry with him. I want to be angry until I scrub the image from my mind. Of him and her. And I realize it’s because it’s triggered me, too. The idea of him and anyone else is not sitting well with me and there have been countless “anyone else’s.”

We are staring back out at the horizon when he whispers that he’s sorry. I just take his hand and hold it on his knee. After a minute he leans into me and rests his head on my shoulder. 

“They left. Jackson will be back in a week with supplies. Lyme will not be back. And I know that I told you I didn’t mind if you stayed in contact with her, but I’m going to ask you not to now.”

He sits up and nods, knowingly. While I don’t blame him for what happened I won’t have him in a position to let it happen again. But I also can’t keep him as a prisoner. He will be in those positions again somehow and we need to make sure he knows how to handle himself. Maybe for the first time ever. I pinch my eyes closed and think of Mags. I picture her smiling face and even though I barely knew her I miss her and wish she was here now to help. To answer his questions. To calm his fears. To make this make sense to him. 

Something comes to me. 

I reach for my now dry shirt and push into the deep pocket. I pull out the ring from Cinna I had secured there. I fiddle with it in my fingers. It almost glows green in the sun.

Like his eyes.

I sit down and produce it. He watches it glowing in my fingers as I hold it in the sun. He hangs his head slightly rubbing his hand over the back of his neck.

“I’m not sure that is exactly how Haymitch saw that playing out...”

His voice is slowly coming back into its own.

“Haymitch knows we are a mess. He probably had some idea.” I smile sadly at him but he doesn’t return it. I turn to face him. With very few tools in my tool kit.

“When would you have given it to me. Tell me how you saw it playing out.”

He stares at me for a second and I wonder if he even knows. He glances over his shoulder and points to the shore. Then he speaks slowly. 

“There on the beach. We fish and swim all day, make a fire...like our last night here...only I don’t blow it by being a jerk this time. I’d bring some blankets. We’d watch the sunset. I’d wait til you were asleep in my arms and slip it on your finger so you’d find it in the morning. And I’d ask you if you’d wear it for me forever. Never take it off. Because I’d want you to be with me for the rest of your life. Even if I am a fuck up.”

He pauses and notices I’m crying, still twisting the ring between us.

“And you’d say yes, of course, because you can’t tell me no...and you’d tell me that I’m not a fuck up and even if I am you’d love me anyway. And you’d put it on, and never take it off.”

“Finnick...” I whisper his name because no other sounds make sense.

I turn my whole body to face him, my knees pulled in between us. I take his left hand. 

“You’re not a fuck up and even if you were I’d love you anyway. And I can tell you no. I’m just choosing not to.”

I skip it onto his left ring finger. It barely fits but I make it work.

“I want you to wear it for me forever. And never take it off. And the next time you want to tell someone no, you can look at it. And know that I would tell them no for you. That it’s ok. And that from now on, your body is just yours. Well, and mine, it’s mine now, too.”

He nods slowly but can tell he is struggling with this idea.

“Katniss, Cinna wanted you to have this. It’s not mine.”

“Cinna wanted me to have it. And it’s still mine and always will be. You’re just wearing it for me. Because I love you.”

“Why....” he asks. I want this sadness to go away for him.

“Because you’re the only one left.”

I smile at him and, once his look of shock goes away, he smiles faintly.

“But Finnick....” I move in close to him and rest my hands in his lap, holding his, my finger tracing the ring, “if you do this to me again I will kill you myself and put us both out of our misery. Ok?”

“Promise?” He asks and it’s more direct than I was prepared for. I just rest my head on his shoulder. He whispers that he loves me and we rock on the water watching the sun start to dip beneath the horizon. 

I breathe in the clean and salty air and close my eyes realizing we are alone again. That, for now, the threat of the outside world can’t can’t hurt us. But I know it won’t always be this way. I think of Mags’ letter. Going over her words in my mind and looking for ways to find strength in them. The only person who knew him is gone and I have to decode him on my own now.

Or do I. 

I open my eyes and watch the water. The boat. The ropes. The knots. There is still someone out there who knows him better than I do. Who may hold the key to figuring out what he’s been through. And it might hurt us both. 

But I start working out a way to plan a visit to talk to Annie Cresta.


	24. Chapter 24

** Day 60 **

Finnick and I slowly settle into a routine that is reminiscent of our first time here. It’s quiet, and peaceful, but the air is full of a fog of words we haven’t said or don’t know how to. We share the loft bed but other than gentle kisses goodnight, or wrapping up in a blanket in bed or on the couch, we aren’t really intimate. Which I guess feels normal. It’s almost like we are each waiting for the other to initiate it: him afraid I’m still mad at him, me afraid he’s not ready. So we just...don’t. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss it.

When Finnick fishes I touch base with Jackson frequently. Often times he will give me outings for the day: try to find this, you’ll enjoy this climb, easy to spot the cabin from here, etc. But usually we just fill each other in on what is happening in our respective worlds. He plans to return in three days and I ask him to bring Annie with him. At first he isn’t sure it will fly, but I have been working on convincing him...under the guise that this girl from Four could really use some ocean therapy.

He finally lets me know that Lyme has agreed to it. He also says she made no mention of any awkward falling out with either Finnick or I, even though I have hinted to him what happened, and I can’t decide if that is a good or bad thing. I want to not blame her for it. I want to take her at her word. Maybe if she honestly believed that Finnick and I were nothing, or that he really was someone who just had sex with anyone he could get his hands on....but I just can’t bring myself to believe either of those things. 

I can’t let it matter. I spend my free time walking in the woods and playing out how I think a conversation with Annie will go. What I might ask. What Finnick might think.

He comes back earlier than usual today. I’m glad to see him. I’m sitting on the porch eating some kind of cookies we found in the bunker. He laughs at the sight of me before sitting down his empty net.

“No luck today?”

“Doesn’t take luck when you’re good at it” he responds quickly.

“Want to come swim?” His hair is wet and I can tell he’s already been. I think for a second about making up another commitment but my options are limited. 

“Sure.” I smile up at him. I can tell it took a lot for him to ask since we are back in the awkward friend zone. You’d think having sex and confessing our love would have helped that.

I follow him to the beach and the sun is reflecting off it so brilliantly you get hot just standing there. Finnick is already stripping out of his clothes. Throwing them over the large piece of driftwood he has made his own. He gets down to his underwear so I do the same. I pull my clothes off til I’m in my bra and panties and suddenly wishing they weren’t both white.

He holds his hand out and I take it. We wade into the water slowly. The shallow depths are warm. I tuck myself into his side, still holding his hand, and he presses back. We are a little over waist deep when he let’s go of my hand and dives into the water. He’s under for longer than I am comfortable with and surfaces pretty far away from me. I forget what a swimmer he is. I push off the sand and float myself, gliding towards him on the surface. He catches me. He can still touch. But I’m out of my depth. Literally. 

His arms hold my waist and I wrap against him running my hands over my wet hair.

He leans in and kisses me. 

“I miss you.” He whispers, rubbing his wet nose on mine.

“I’m right here.” I put my arms around his neck. I really am powerless to stay mad at him. 

“You know what I mean. The way things were.”

His eyes are glowing in this sun light, the water reflecting mischievously in them. I lean in and kiss him. Gently at first but then I’m licking at his lips and wanting my tongue past them. But I pull from him.

“Does that help?”

“Yeah.” He leans back towards me, holding me in the water and kissing me lazily. I feel a sudden pang of guilt not telling him my plan for Annie, and decide if I’m going to hold him accountable for honestly I need to be, too. I break our connection.

“I need to tell you something...”I can tell just saying it has worried him.

“Ok....”

“I asked Jackson if Annie could come with him. I thought she might like to be here, by the ocean for a bit.”

I watch as he takes it in and I swear I can actually see the wheels turning in his head . He’s chewing the inside of his lip. I know it will make him uneasy but I’m also worried about what his reaction says about his lingering feelings for her.

“She would like that.”

Ok. Well, that was easier than I expected. He kisses me again as if I never brought her up at all and it comforts me some. It’s strange to look forward to something as much as you dread it but somehow floating through the water in his arms helps me not think about Annie for awhile.

** Day 62. **

I wanted Finnick to make love to me last night. I pressed into him as we fell asleep and rolled my hips gently against him, hoping he would realize what I needed. But he didn’t. Kissed me and fell asleep. I should have just told him that with Annie coming I wanted to know we were ok first. 

But here we are. Dressing for the day and expecting the hovercraft to arrive at any moment. He makes some eggs for breakfast and instead of plating them, walks to the couch where I’m sitting with a full skillet and a fork. He sits next to me, one leg tucked under him, and lifts a fork to my mouth. 

“Mmmmmmm....” I give him a moan of appreciation through my over full mouth (I can’t eat as fast as he does) but I find it adorable that he wants to feed me. I take him in: bare feet (sometimes I think he actually detests having to wear shoes), unbrushed hair, eating out of a pan. Real Finnick. And I am so charmed.

“I was thinking....” his mouth is still half full of eggs as he speaks, feeding me another bite. I raise my eyes to encourage him to keep going, not wanting to spit food as I answer him.

“I was wondering....if maybe after everyone leaves tonight...we could....you and I could.....”

I start to blush and smile and I scoot closer to him like I can’t hear what he is saying. 

“We could...what??” I know exactly what he’s getting at obviously but I want to hear him say it so I’m relentless. He grins shyly.

“Well....it’s just been a little while since....you know....”

“I don’t know....use your words....” I’m half teasing and half encouraging and I start to shimmy my way into his lap.

When we hear the hovercraft.

He rolls his eyes and moves to the sink to wash the skillet he has been destroying while I strap some boots on. I walk out of the cabin in time to see them descend in a small opening near the sand, where they took off from last time. The engines quickly die and the ramp lowers. Jackson makes his way down with Annie on his arm. I can tell the ride and/or the noise is not sitting well with her but he is managing to accompany her safely. Suddenly Finnick is at my side and I can feel him tense as he fights off the urge to run and help. But he stands his ground.

They walk towards us, both smiling. Annie moves to Finnick quickly and they embrace a long....long...time. I’m watching them awkwardly until Jackson pulls me into a hug that I’m sure is just a reaction to him watching me standing there.

“How you doin, kid?”

I smile and ask him the same. The four of us make small talk about the flight. Everyone but Jackson a bottle of nerves. He can sense it and expertly...and I do mean expertly...deflects.

“Finnick I thought you and I can carry some crates down to the bunker. Maybe Katniss and Annie can enjoy the water for a bit and then we all meet up at the beach later. I know I could use a few moments of peace out there.”

He gives me a slight nudge and I’m grateful, but I’m also lost in wondering if this was his beach before everything in his world shattered.

Finnick agrees and I notice Annie holding his hand. She drops it when she realizes I’ve seen. Strangely though, in light of everything, it doesn’t bother me.

Finnick walks inside to grab some things and I take the opportunity to follow him quickly. 

“I’ll grab some water. Is there anything else you need?” I ask Annie, making sure she’s ok. 

“I’m fine thank you. I have some things for you....I’ll be back.” She heads back to the craft and I duck inside.

Finnick is tucking waters into a backpack and he throws me two. I walk towards him, knowing this can’t be sitting well with him.

“She can get...sometimes she says things and she won’t know what she said or why. It embarrasses her. Just...you know....treat her like you treat me.” I smile at him. Treat her like she’s broken, too. 

I hear you, Finnick.

I kiss him gently and he kisses back. 

“Be careful ok?” I think about making a joke about behaving in the bunker but I decide it’s...probably best I don’t.

We head out together. Annie is almost back to the porch, carrying a large suitcase. She smiles slightly.

“Here. Some clothes and things in case you get tired of your prison jumpsuit. I guessed on your size but I hope you like them.”

She hands me the bag and I am truly grateful. I hadn’t packed anything other than the clothes we were given in 13 and I’m anxious to feel...normal.

“There are some things for Finnick, too. Mostly pants and shorts since I don’t imagine he will wear much else.”

We share a knowing laugh before letting it pass into a slight unease.

I sit the clothes inside, ask if she is ready and we head down the short path to the beach. For a moment I feel ill equipped to handle her but she seems so calm and I am determined to let her help me. Help us. I can do this. 

We arrive at the clearing and I watch as she takes in the shore...the boats...the nets. She smiles and closes her eyes, inhaling deeply and then giggling to herself the way a child would. She giggles. Her hands come to her mouth and she is laughing. She kicks her shoes off and pulls her dress up to her waist and runs into the surf like her feet are on fire. Kicking and splashing in the water. I smile in spite of myself. It’s really something to see. I put our bag down and walk after her. As I approach her she actually sits in the water. Her skirt floating in the waves as they crest around her. Toes digging into the sand. Unphased by how wet she is. She leans back on her palms and the sun lights her up. She’s beautiful. Her skin isn’t near as dark as Finnick but the sun suits her, it reflects in her auburn hair. I’m not afraid of her...I’m smitten by her.

She opens her eyes and notices me standing and staring. She scoops her hand in the water and splashes me. Soaking my pants.

“Might as well sit down now!” She giggles. So I do. 

We sit and splash in the surf. She kicks water at me and I kick water at her. I feel like I’m baby sitting. I feel like she needs me to make sure she doesn’t drown.

I feel like....Finnick must.

“He loves you. I see why.”

Her sudden declaration unsettles me even as she continues to kick and splash. She turns to me. Seeing it on my face.

“It’s ok.”

She smiles earnestly and I know she actually means it.

“You love him, too. I knew it the minute I saw you with him. In a way I can’t. I’m not strong enough to take care of him. He deserves that.”

She’s smiling, almost wistful. I wonder how much of what she is saying she fully even understands.

“Annie, I don’t know that I am either.” I gulp as I say it and she turns to me, her childlike wonder suddenly replaced with concern. 

“Yes you are. Don’t go doubting yourself now. You didn’t in the arena, don’t do it now. Doubting yourself even for a second is a death sentence.”

“I...I don’t know what he’s been through....”

She looks down in the sand and starts tracing with her finger...moving it up and out of the tide. She’s making circles. Tally marks. It’s like watching someone scribble hieroglyphs. I study her, she’s muttering nonsense now but I’m starting to follow along. Catching bit’s and pieces.

“He’d be gone three weeks...call two times...Mags would know if he didn’t call...he wasn’t safe....next trip...four weeks...four calls...four nights he was safe.....”

She’s putting tally marks into circles. She’s memorized the times he had to leave and the nights he ‘wasn’t safe.’ I stop trying to count when I get to two hundred and fifty. 

Two hundred and fifty. 

I grab her wrist gently.

“He told you then? What was happening?”

She laughs. So loud and boisterously, like I told her a joke. 

“No no no no. He would never tell me. Never worry me. Never hurt me. Never let me see him hurt. Never cry. Never touch me. Never. No no. I heard Mags talk about it. He never told her either unless he had to. One time when we were all at the mansion he came home with bite marks so deep Mags called for a doctor. You could see his muscle torn. Awful. Another time he bled so much she had to change his bedding. But he would lie. Lie...lie...lie....but Mags knew. Her friends on the inside told her. He did it for us.”

She turns and sees the horror on my face. I can feel the color draining from my cheeks and I grab at the sand trying to ground myself. She puts her hand on mine.

“Oh Katniss no I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I know. It’s hard to think of. But most of the time it was just people like you and me who wanted for one night to feel loved and protected by him. That was all. Mostly.”

I nod slightly. Trying to make sense of how long this went on and I wish I could go back and kill Snow again.

“He doesn’t know who he is now, Annie. Do you?”

She laughs and raises her wet hands to her face. Holding her cheeks and closing her eyes.

“Oh, Katniss...of course he does, silly. He knows exactly who he is is....” she’s practically dancing in the sand when she turns to me and takes my hands...suddenly serious again.

“He just thinks that no one loves who he really is. He thinks people only love fancy Finnick from Four. He thinks the boy who swims and sings and jokes and plays and loves isn’t worth anything anymore. You know who he is. You just remind him that’s who you love. That’s why he loved Mags so. She made him remember.”

She glazes over as she mentions Mags and I hold her hands back.

“He loves you like that, too, Annie.” 

I see tears in her eyes but she blinks and laughs girlishly.

“He loves me. I know he loves me. He always will. Because he’s promised to take care of me. That love is different. Because I’m different. You? You’re the same.”

She touches my nose gently with her finger and splashes me again. I smile and splash her back and she leans into my shoulder restfully. I lean into her, trying to wrap my mind around her...and him.

She’s mad. But she makes sense. All of that pain and torture but he knows who he is. He just thinks it’s not what anyone wants. That is a much, much easier fix.

We play in the water a bit before we hear the freeze rustle behind us. I turn to see Finnick and Jackson, both in full on sweats from obvious heavy lifting, walking to join us on the sand. Suddenly I’m looking at Finnick differently. He’s a beautiful disaster. Knowing that Annie is a huge part of him makes me love him...and her...more. I shake off the images of him bloody and broken and focus on what Annie said. Loving the boy inside of him that he keeps from people. The boy I’ve seen sneak through. The boy who eats eggs from a skillet and doesn’t wear shoes and cares deeply for everyone and swims like a fish and...loves me right back.

I think of Mags’ letter. That someday he would find someone who saw his insides and loved him for him. I hope somewhere she is looking down and glad I’m that person. He approaches me as Annie and Jackson start walking the shore line.

“Everything ok?” He asks and I can tell there’s a hint of nervousness in his tone.

“I love you.”

That’s all I need him to know.

We enjoy some time on the beach, the four of us, until the afternoon is sinking into evening. And as pleasant as it all is...all I can think about is having him alone.


	25. Chapter 25

The night is coming on quickly and were it not for my desperate need to just be able to be alone with Finnick, I would ask them all to stay.

Annie isn’t threatening like I assumed. Watching Finnick and her on the beach is fascinating. He chases her through the water (she can out swim him), lifts her and throws her, helps her open shells that she finds after diving under for obscene amounts of time. I expected that seeing them together in their element would make me insanely jealous but I feel like I’m watching him play with a younger sister. He’s protective and caring. And I know he loves her. But when he glances at me in the midst of it all there is something in those glowing eyes that I don’t see with her. 

No obligation. 

Jackson and I talk. He tells me about his family. How they didn’t know this beach but that they loved some of the others. He knew Johanna well. He says she would often stay with them, come for meals. That other than constant cursing in front of his children, she was like family to them He chokes up only a few times. Mostly he tells me that he loves remembering them and teaching someone new about them. 

“You can come stay here.” I tell him.

“I know. Maybe someday. When the hurt isn’t so new.” He smiles at me and I understand him completely.

“I noticed Finnick’s ring today. I am not the least big surprised you’d take matters into your own hands. Congratulations.”

I laugh at him as he nudges me.

“It’s complicated.”

He has no idea.

“Hell Katniss everything is complicated. Love doesn’t have to be. Seven is a great place to raise a family....”

I slap him and look over at Finnick, drying Annie off and kissing the top of her damp hair. Caring so deeply for her. He will need no training on how to be someone’s father someday. If I can convince him he’s worthy of that.

They walk towards us. 

“I can catch some fish. Start a fire. Feed everyone before the trip home...”

Finnick offers, as Jackson stands.

“No, sir. We have some food on the craft and actually nothing sounds better to me than being lulled to sleep by that thing on the way home. Isn’t that right Annie?” He extends his hand to her and she giggles. She turns and kisses Finnick in the mouth. Sloppy and cute, and it does sting just a little bit to see him kiss her back. She brushes his hair with her fingers and then messes it right back up with an open hand.

“You be good.” She smiles at him.

“You be good. Teach those kids how to swim, ok?” She drops his hand and practically runs into my arms. I laugh and hug on to her. She whispers in my ear.

“He always carries a seashell in his pocket. It’s true. Check. For luck. Like his rope but he thinks no one knows. I know. And now so do you. Love him hard. Just like he is.” 

She doesn’t even look at me before grabbing Jackson’s hand and making a run for the hovercraft. He shouts goodbye and that he will be in touch.

I can’t help but laugh.

We stand together, watching them take off as Finnick grabs my hand. He turns to me and there is a sheepish look...as though he let himself forget to be nervous for awhile and now it’s washing back over him.

“I loved today.” I say to him. Meaning it. He smiles and I know he wants to agree but doesn’t.

“I love seeing you just...be you.” 

He smiles, slightly embarrassed. He runs his hands through his hair. I catch his wrist.

“Don’t be like that. You can be like that with me, too. That’s the you I love the most. I mean, I can’t swim like that, so you could actually catch me.” 

He grins wide and I lean into him. He’s still wet and the cool feels refreshing. I dip my hands into his pockets.

A shell. I smile. Annie knows him. And she’s helping me to know him, too.

“So....what did the two of you talk about all day?”

I can tell it’s killing him. 

“How much we both love you...” it’s vague, I know, but it’s not a lie, “I like her. A lot.”

“I knew you would. She’s...a lot...but I’m glad that she is exists the way she does now. The games broke her. We didn’t think she’d come back at all.” 

I stroke his hair. I know his complicated and nurturing love for her eats at him. I see him look over my shoulder and squint. I follow his eyes. Annie’s drawings in the sand.

“What’s that?”

I lean low and long and brush at it, erasing it with my foot. He doesn’t need to know that I know. 

He shrugs and still stares at the sand like he is trying to process it but I am able to quickly distract him. I press into him deeply, my hands still in his pockets until they rest on the tops of his thighs inside his damp pants. Dangerously close to touching him. He senses it. 

“Bring anything good to the bunker today?” I swiftly change the subject.

“Looked like it. We can go down and look sometime. I figure we can make the trek once a week and just stock up what we need. Won’t be anyone else using it but us for awhile.” 

I lean on his bare chest at the thought of that. No one but us for awhile. It brings me more comfort than the idea of going into the bunker but I don’t need to bring that up just yet. Nor do I need to ask him to refrain from using the phrase “do down” and “bunker” in the same sentence...at least for awhile.

Suddenly there is a giant clap of thunder. We both look up at a threatening row of dark storm clouds moving towards us from over the open water. 

“Looks like no dinner on the beach tonight. We should head back.” 

He gathers up his things as he’s talking to me. Shirts, shoes. He stops where Annie was drawing and stares at a spot I missed with my foot. A circle. Some tally marks. Surely it won’t mean much to him. And I know if I make a lunge for it now it’ll alert him and he’ll push me to tell him.

But as I watch him taking it in I get the idea he already knows what it is.

“Four weeks....four calls....” he whispers to himself. Incredibly, audibly sad. I don’t say anything but he looks towards me. He knows I know.

“We had this sand path....at Mags’ place...led right to her door. When I’d be gone, Annie would tally the days. The good ones...and the bad ones. The first few days I’d be home she would just mutter that to herself. However many days I was gone. However many times I could call them. Four weeks...that was the longest I’d been gone. It was...bad...”

My heart is slowly splitting open in my chest but...he’s talking to me. He’s letting me in. I know that he doesn’t want to say it anymore than I want to hear it, but at some point...we have to do this. Little by little. I take a deep, shaky breath.

“She told me she didn’t know. What it meant. The good days and the bad days. But Mags knew.”

He hangs his head slightly as I talk, tracing her circles in the sand with his toe.

“Yeah, Mags always knew. I didn’t want her to, but she did. What else did she say?”

I realize as he asks he’s as curious about what Annie knows as he is about what I know. And I won’t keep that from him.

“She told me about the time....Mags had to change your bedding....” I stop there trying to imagine what a scene like that must have looked like. And I decide that I will drop it right then and there if he doesn’t seem comfortable. His jaw clenches. He’s reliving it and I immediately regret bringing it up.

“I tried so hard to keep it from them. Mags would cry. God. She would cry so much. It was always worse when we all came to the Capitol. For the Games, for the Victory Parties. And those were the times I couldn’t keep her from seeing it. It....wasn’t usually men...really, and those were the worst. Rare. But the worst. That time...was probably the worst.”

I guess in my mind I knew if he was bleeding out it wasn’t from a woman but I feel myself get dizzy as he speaks. I can’t hide it on my face as much as I want to and he looks away.

“Aghhhhh, please don’t look at me like that. Please?”

I want to tell him I’m sorry. For the look. For what he’s going through. What he’s already gone through. But I know that what he is telling me is he doesn’t want anyone, especially me, feeling sorry for him. I take his hand and reach in my toes to kiss his neck softly. It’s starting to rain and I can tell in the air that it won’t be long before the skies open and it’s pouring on us. 

And I’m right. Luckily the walk is short because we no sooner do we reach the porch....the skies open and let out a torrential rain. Buckets of fresh water spilling over the edges of the porch. It’s coming straight down and we stand and watch it for awhile as the air takes on an immediate coolness. We take it in for a moment but as it picks up we are getting more and more wet. And it’s no surprise that it bothers me more than him. I turn and walk in, pulling him behind me. He had the good sense to bring in some more wood before it was drenched and I start a fire as he walks around and cracks some of the windows. The cabin fills with a cool breeze and the sound of rain outside. And it is pouring.

“I hope the roof on this place holds...” I joke, realizing it hasn’t rained on us since we arrived. 

“They get lots of rain here. I’m sure it’s reinforced. But I guess we will find out.”

He climbs the ladder to the loft and cracks the window there, checking it for water as I casually notice him get naked and put some dry pants on. He climbs back down and notices the bag from Annie.

“What’s this?” He motions to it.

“Annie brought some clothes from The Capitol. I haven’t looked yet.” I answer and he smiles a little. 

“Well I’m gonna shower real quick maybe you can find something decent to wear for a change.” He laughs as I throw a pillow from the couch. And he heads...out the front door. 

“Wait, where are you going?”

I stand, not wanting him to leave. He produces a bar of soap in his hands and looks at me like I’ve lost my mind.

“To shower?”

He answers. And then walks out the door, I watch through a window and he takes his dry pants right back off...walking into the pouring rain and soaping himself up before rinsing off. Right there in the grass. And I’m the one whose lost her mind. I laugh, watching him play and clean in the water...lathering soap on his hands to run through his hair. I lean down and pull the bag open and the first thing I see is a dress. It’s white. Summery. Gauzy. Thin straps and not much else. It looks like a nightgown but it’s....stunning. I pull it out and smile that Annie seems to have guessed my size right. I pull my standard white shirt and grey pants off, slipping it over my shoulders. It barely brushes me as it falls neatly over my hips. 

I step out onto the porch. Naked except for this beautiful flowing dress and I stop him in his tracks. 

Mission accomplished. He turns to look at me, standing there soapy in the pouring rain, blinking it off to look at me.

“Wow...” he whispers into the storm. I smile, feeling his eyes as they take me in.

“You like it? Is it....decent enough?” I smile casually, teasing him.

“Why don’t you move out here so I can see it better....”

He’s got my number. An all white dress in the pouring rain. I step off the porch and feel every inch of the fabric cling to me. I run my hands through my hair and move quickly towards him like he’s an umbrella. And in a way...he is. Taller than me by enough to shield me from the water. He drops the soap and pulls me into him. We are kissing before I even know what has happened.

His arms are all over me, searching me, lifting parts of my sopping wet dress to touch me...or just pushing them through it against my skin. I’m desperate for him. Like the rain allowed some kind of flood gate to open and now it’s like there is nothing that can keep us from getting to each other. It’s raw and desperate and real.

He lifts me into his arms and I plaster my legs around his waist. He walks, somehow, my mouth crushing against his, carrying my weight, back onto the porch and through the front door. I flail my arm behind him until I find it enough to push it shut. He moves is through the room and I can hear the fire crackling. I’m grateful I got a good start on it before my....distraction...because I am already getting cold. 

He lays me onto the fur rug by the fire and I’m struck by how incredibly attractive he is. Tan, dripping wet, slim and muscular...hard for me.

He leans over me and lifts the dress at my hips. I see it occur to him just as it occurs to me that he’s going to rip it trying to peel it from my skin. So he doesn’t. He just pushes it up over my hips until I’m exposed and I drop my knees open. Both of us reach for me simultaneously as he leans over and kisses my neck...my collar bone...my earlobe. Our fingers are clumsily in each other’s way as we both paw at my opening. With the same intention. Just to make sure I’m wet enough to take it. At this point I don’t even care. I would just assume he tear me a little then have to wait another minute. I growl his name.

He pulls his hand from between my thighs and pulls at my hips, gently cocking them up towards the ceiling. He bites his lip and grabs his cock. I would say he eases it into me but it’s not easy. It’s a swift, penetrating movement that knocks the wind out of me and I arch my back so high I’m looking at the back side of the room as my eyes flutter closed.

“Oh my...GOD” I yell and flail like I am trying to find something to brace against and he is inside me so deep I can almost taste him. His hands have my hips so hard and he’s pumping himself in and out at such a pace that I know he’s been dying for this like I have. He’s growling and grunting and I force myself to lift my head, fighting gravity, and watching him. He meets my eyes as I look back at him and he can see it’s taking all the strength I have. He leans down and braces the back of my neck with his hand, leaning on an elbow as he bucks into me. The only thing I don’t like is I don’t know how either of us will hold onto this and I want it to last forever. I’m so wet now I can hear every movement he makes in and out of me and I pant and moan and whine at the sensation. I’m so glad his hands are full because if he put his fingers on me right now I would come absolutely unglued. He’s saying my name. Like it’s a prayer and a swear all at once. I can see him trying so hard to make it last.

He pulls from me and for a second I’m upset that it’s about to end but I have no idea. His face is dark, sexy and intentional. And I can hardly stand from coming myself even with neither of us touching me. He lets my head go and grabs my hips again. Hard. And he twists my body, one over the other, until I am laying on my stomach. He pulls me up until my knees are under me and I instinctively pull up to my elbows. 

Oh my God.

I feel him grab me from behind. Still steadying me with one hand on my hip, but the other is between my legs. His fingers close up and over me and I feel his thumb enter me in a way and a place I don’t think anything else ever has.

“Finnick!” I shout his name. Like, really shout. I’m fighting to not collapse and he can sense it because he pulls his hand from me and grabs both hips.

I feel him pressing against my entrance and I’m pushing back at him begging him to just fill me already, but when he does I feel like I lose all connection with my body. I shout. I scream. I groan. I cry out for him. His hands are firm against my flesh and my God his cock is just pushing so deep into me I swear he could lift me right off the ground. He is groaning and thrusting and so, so loud. The sounds he’s making are primal and raw and I think he could be sitting perfectly still making them and I would still explode. 

He’s fucking me. This isn’t making love. It’s new and it’s dirty and it’s...I love every second of it. And I start begging him for it. 

“Fuck me, Finnick, please....” I don’t know where it’s coming from but we start talking to each other...communicating even if it is vulgar and raw.

“You like that? Tell me how it feels...” he’s growling at me, completely breathless but in control at the same time.

“Please don’t stop. I feel....so.....good.....please....harder....”  
Even as I say it I’m pretty sure he couldn’t fuck me harder if he tried.

But he does.

He digs his fingers into me and thrusts into me so hard it stings. But I want more. He’s calling out for me. Telling me how good I feel. How hot I am. I’m lost in the sound of his voice and the feel of him all at once. It’s so...full....and there are parts of me that are feeling him that never have. I feel it coming over me and I’m clawing at the carpet. 

“Please...I neeed......”

I don’t know what I’m going to say to finish that sentence...but he does. He leans over me and pulls me up into him, my back slick against his chest, his cock still lodged solidly inside me. I cry out at the movement because he is so hard in me and pressing against something that unwinds me completely. He reaches around and takes my breasts in his hands. He pinching my skin and I scream out. It’s only then I hear the thunder and pouring rain and I don’t know why but it pushes me over the edge. I come around him so hard. He’s pinning me against his chest and I’m glad for it because I know this would knock me to the floor otherwise. I toss my head back into him, hitting his chin, my hair plastered to my forehead with rain and sweat. He leans against me, his face in my neck. Kissing at me me as he whispers.

“God, yes, just like that, I wanna feel you all over me....” his mouth and his words and the sounds and our bodies. I’m lost in it. I’m shouting his name and I feel him inside me...filling me, twitching and throbbing. He’s coming, too, and he moans so hard into my neck it vibrates my whole body. He screams into my shoulder.

“I’m coming Katniss....” he’s loud and I can still barely hear him over the thunder and my own gasping as I start to come down. I feel his come running from me and put my hand between us just to feel it. He jumps at my touch and moans as my fingers brush against him. He’s finishing. I feel him slowing. His body is giving out under him the way mine did a long time ago. He slowly moves his hands from my nipples and down over my rib cage, supporting me there as we collapse together onto the floor. I’m face down in the warm fur of this rug. The fire crackles, the rain pours, his head is resting between my shoulders and he slowly pulls himself from me. I moan. I could lay like this forever if I wasn’t desperate to have him hold me. 

I gently curl onto my side and he rolls from my back until he is on his. I gather some strength to roll over to him. He’s looking down at me, his chest still heaving and salty as I fall sloppily onto it. Resting on my hands and looking up at him. 

“Fuck.” He says and I can’t help but laugh to myself.

“Good fuck or bad fuck?” I speak and am surprised how hoarse my voice it from screaming. The rain is still pouring. He smiles deviously.

“I dunno...you tell me.” He raises an eyebrow slightly. I press up, raising my head off of his chest. 

“You amaze me.” I say to him. He lifts his head and kisses me softly. We stay locked in a gentle kiss and he props himself up on an elbow. 

“Finnick...will you promise me something?”

“Sure...”

“Anytime this isn’t something that feels good or right to you. You tell me? I won’t know when those moments are and I don’t want to guess. So you promise you’ll tell me and I promise whenever and wherever it is...as long as it’s you and me...it’ll always be ok.”

He stares at me for a moment or two then cocks a slight smile. 

“I promise. Can I ask you something?”

I nod. He sits up, pulling me up beside him, both if us still wet, my white dress still clinging to me. Hair everywhere. 

He reaches his arm up and grabs at Cinna’s ring, pulling it off. He holds it in the air between us, the firelight reflecting off of it. He takes my left hand in his and my breath hitches.

“Will you marry me?” 

I can’t say yes. But I nod emphatically trying not to cry. And at the same time, I take my hand from him.

“Of course,” I manage, “ but I gave that to you and I want you to have it.”

He takes my hand back and slips it on.

“Cinna gave it to you. And I want you to have it. So...we can share it. You wear it...you give it to me when I need it. That’s kinda how we make this thing work, right?”

He smiles a little and I return it, looking down at the ring glowing gently on my hand. He’s felt it, too. That push and pull. It makes sense that our wedding band would do the same thing. Push and pull between us.

“I have something else for you....”

He stands up, tossing me a blanket as he does. He moves to the kitchen and I hear him rattling around as I pull off my wet dress and toss it aside...silently hoping I didn’t ruin it...I wrap up in the blanket and scoot towards the fire. Lost in the sounds of the burning wood, the flooding rain, and the boy I love in the kitchen. 

He returns with a big metal mug. Steaming. Just one. He sits beside me and I throw the blanket over his shoulder. He’s so much more comfortable in his nakedness than I am.

He curls into me and hands me the mug.

Hot. Chocolate. 

“My God Finnick where....”

“The bunker. There’s a lot, but I figured we would share just to make sure....”

I take a sip and it literally glides down my throat like magic. It warms me from the inside out and I lean on his shoulder as I pass it to him.

We lean into each other and into the couch behind us, watching the fire and listening to the rain...sharing a steaming cup of the best hot chocolate. At some point he falls asleep. I feel his body get heavy next to me and I gently lay him down on the floor, propping pillows beneath his head. He’s asleep so soundly. I play with his hair and watch him for a long while. I study his body up close. And it’s not perfection. I notice tiny scars I’ve never seen before. I run my fingers over a line of them on his hip. Teeth. The ones Mags had to treat. Five of them. Right long his bone. I feel my heart race and I take the ring back off. While he is sleeping I slip it back onto his finger. When he wakes up he will notice it. 

And I’ll ask him to marry me back. 

I curl into his side and cover us, my fingers tracing his injured hip. Biting my lip and falling asleep with the resolve to fix all the scars that Mags didn’t. 

And in fixing him, I know I’ll fix me, too.

**Author's Note:**

> That’s it for these two...for now. Be on the lookout for a possible part deux. Thanks for trudging along through this Wild one with me.
> 
> ⛵️ ❤️ 🏹


End file.
